


Under my skin

by Cattuesmountain



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-06-24 00:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19712290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattuesmountain/pseuds/Cattuesmountain
Summary: A classical what-if question: What if Catherine had actually managed to leave the castle unnoticed. Leaving behind French Court, her children as well as her husband. What fate awaits her out there and will she ever return?





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "Reign" or the characters used in it are not mine, sad but true :-( Violations of any rights are not intended.  
Pairing: Queen Catherine/King Henry (Cathry)  
Rating: M / P16  
Kategorie: Romance, Drama  
Timeline: Season 1 - Episode 9 (For King and Country) but in this story there's no Clarissa and Catherine didn't have an affair with Richard.

Under my skin

Chapter 1  
Prolog

"She actually left him?!"  
Diane de Poitiers shook her head in disbelief and reached for a wine-filled goblet to down her amazement. She never thought the day would come that would make all her dreams come true.  
"I bet that got a rise out of Kind Henry? How did he react?" She asked eagerly and impatiently looked up at the gaunt man who has broken the happy news to her.  
"Apparently he seemed very upset and even canceled his trip to Rome."

The King's mistress laughed at the thought that by her flight Catherine de Medici had relieved her husband of the burden of traveling to Rome in order to ask the Holy Father for an annulment of his marriage. Her action played them perfectly into their hands.  
Her disappearance could be seen as an admission of guilt and improved Henry's chances to get rid of his annoying wife.

What she didn't like about this whole scenario was the trembling uncertainty. About where the merchant's daughter had fled to and what she was planning to do regarding her situation. For by no stretch of her imagination could Diane picture her nemesis voluntarily forfeiting her station, her crown or her husband.

"I wonder where she will go into hiding," she mused aloud.  
"My source has learned that she has left for Italy," her spy told her and Diane nodded absently. She probably sought the support of her wealthy and influential Medici family there. With them or even the pope as allies backing her up, Catherine de Medici would be able to destroy Henry's and her plans even from afar.

"She must not reach Italy under any circumstances!" The King's mistress said indignantly and looked at the man who slowly stepped out of the shadows. His face was as gaunt as his figure and a broad, jagged scar graced his left cheek. It ran from the corner of his mouth to his temple and disappeared under a thinning hairline.

"Her soldiers are highly trained and armed to the teeth", he told her but she knew that he wasn't shying away from the perspective of fighting her guards but merely wanted to raise his price.  
"Then you either have to surprise them or lure them into a trap. I'm sure you can come up with something."  
"That won't be cheap. I need outside assistance."

Diane, who had expected this answer, nodded and went to a chest. She took out a sizable bag of gold and handed it over to her co-conspirator.  
"I think this should be enough," she said smiling and went to the window to give him the opportunity to examine its contents.  
"I guess it kind of does," grumbled the hired assassin a moment later.  
"Good," the dark-haired woman rejoiced and turned her attention back to her visitor. "You are going to kill everyone. Except her!"

She answered his questioning look he was giving her by offering him a green vial and a second, much smaller bag.  
"Lace your blade with this and wound Catherine de Medici, but do not kill the woman." The man took both the gold and the vial. The latter he held up against the light to inspect it sceptically.  
"Poison?" He asked unnecessarily and Diane nodded.  
"Yes. So be careful and don't get exposed to it yourself," she instructed the man.

For she knew neither the exact consistence, nor the potency of this contact poison but she was pretty sure that it was highly efficient and very dangerous.  
Wasn't it a twist of fate that Catherine de Medici would die of her own poison? One she had secretly stolen from her rival a few weeks ago and that would hopefully bring her a slow and agonizing death. Alone, lonely and far from home.

At that thought a smug smile appeared on the dark-haired woman's face.

"I assume that's all?"  
"Yes, and now you'd better hurry. Once she has reached her family in Italy, we won't be able to succeed."  
Diane dismissed the man with a nod. He indicated a bow and left the room without another word.

From her position at the window she could see the assassin galloping off a few minutes later.


	2. Chapter 2

"This would be a good place for setting up camp." Cedric Baldot, the troop leader pointed vaguely at a moss-covered clearing that lay ahead of them.

Henry II slowed down his stallion's brisk trot and allowed the other man to close up to him to the forefront of their small army.  
"I guess this place is as good as any other," he agreed, raising his arm in a halting gesture to signal his troops that they would rest here for the night.

This thoughtless movement caused a stabbing pain in his shoulder where he had injured himself a few days earlier while putting down a small rebellion near the south-eastern border.

Nothing wild, he was sure of, but unpleasant enough and hindering, as they had to control three more border posts before they could returned to French court.

"How is your shoulder?" Cedric asked as if he had guessed his King's thoughts.  
Henry put him off with a single movement of his hand, enervated and unwilling to admit his indulgence neither to himself nor the other man, no matter how long they knew each other.  
"Not even worth mentioning it."  
He slid off the saddle in front of a big beech and handed the reins over to one of the squires.

"Dry him off and water him down at the stream," Henry instructed the shy boy while simultaneously explaining in the same breath where his men should pitch his tent.  
It was only when he was sure that his orders would be carried out to his satisfaction that Henry ran down the steep bank himself to refresh his heated body at the steam and wash away the dirt and sweat of the past few hours. The sun had burned down on them mercilessly all day and the heat had soaked his clothes in sweat. Groaning, he stripped off his heavy uniform jacket, giving his battered shoulder a new sting. Henry carelessly dropped the garment in the sand and climbed over a rock to bore his wa y into the water. The riverbed under his boots was slipperier than he expected and it took him a moment to find a reasonably good footing. Then he leaned down to wash his face, his neck and upper body.

Although he would never admit it out loud, but after weeks of deprivation he missed the luxury of being able to take a hot bath any time it pleased him as well as his own comfortable bed. It had been years since the King of France had taken an active part in patrolling French borders and the destruction of minor uprisings.

For an unknown restlessness had driven him out of the castle. A restlessness he could not understand, even less explain.

And lately he no longer had a wife at his side who kept him from daring notions like these. He was pretty sure that Catherine would have stopped him from marching out with his troops. Francis, his son and heir had been anything but enthusiastic about his departure as well, but Henry did not want to hear to his voice of reason. He had simply entrusted him and his newlywed wife Mary with France's state affairs and had followed his call of restlessness.  
That has been six weeks ago.

It had even been longer since Catherine had left him. His wife had disappeared half a year ago, and so far and despite his intensive search, he hadn't even found a clue where his wife might have fled to.

At first he had reacted with annoyance to her disappearance. After all, he has been trying to find a way to get rid of her at the same time but she had beat him to it. Moreover, her flight had shattered his male ego. He hated being known as the man whose wife had gone astray. A King who entertained a variety of mistresses but was unable to tame his very own Medici-wife.

In the meantime he caught himself wondering how Catherine would react to specific situations and even if he would never admit it, he sometimes even missed her stubborn, unruly manners.

Quite secretly he didn't feel indifferent regarding her unexpected departure. Moreover, it was a mystery to him why his otherwise combative-inclined wife had quit his court without a whimper. What had surprised him was the fact that as of yet he hadn't heard anything from her, but from her damn Medici family instead. They had impressively tried to threaten him, that should he have something to do with the disappearance of his wife - one of them -, he would feel their wrath. A testimony that she had not fled to Italy, although the few clues he had found right after her flight indicated otherwise.

In general, behavior like that was rather unusual for her. If not atypical. Even more uncharacteristically since she hadn't made any attempt to contact her children.

"Your Majesty? Henry!" Cedric's voice snapped Henry out of his thoughts and unhinged the King. Cursing loudly he stumbled forward before he was able to break his fall.  
"What is it?!" he bellowed irritated whereupon his friend made an apologetic gesture in his direction.  
"I apologize, but our advance guard has discovered a monastery not far from here. Shall we send our men over there?"

Henry, who had meanwhile reached the bank, climbed up to Cedric and pointed at his jacket. The other man dutifully picked it up and followed him back towards their camp.  
"Yes, but instruct them to behave themselves. It's best you accompany them."

It wasn't uncommon to collect additional food rations for the king's troops in the villages and the surrounding area. But in the countryside, where food was often scarce, the surrender of victuals was sometimes accompanied by unpleasant incidents.  
In addition some of the soldiers were anything but squeamish and occasionally forgot their good breeding in their overzeal.

Because trying to have his marriage annulled didn't improve his already strained relationship with the Holy See in addition to Catherine's escape and the influence of her powerful Medici family. They were vigorously stirring up resentment against him, of that he was sure. It was therefore in his best interest not to attract further displeasure from Rome by commanding a raiding party in a monastery by force of arms.

Cedric acknowledged this request with a short nod and rounded up a small group of men who mounted their horses.

Henry slowly walked around Cedric's horse and patted the animal's muscular neck.  
"Maybe if you stumble upon an anti-inflammatory ointment..." he said in a muffled voice only meant for Cedric's ears.  
"Consider it done," his friend promised before spurring his stallion and galloping off with his men.

An hour later - Henry had meanwhile retired to his tent and brooded over his map - Cedric excitedly entered the royal tent.

"Henry! You won't believe it but I think I've found your wife!" The other man's voice cracked with excitement.  
"Catherine?" The King failed to hide his irritation. "What's Catherine supposed to do in a monastery?" He verbalized the first thought that came to his mind.

"I can' tell. All I know is that the woman I've seen there IS Catherine de Medici, your wife." His friend insisted, looking intently at his King.

Henry shook his head in perplexity and began wandering up and down his tent restlessly. "You have to be wrong," he concluded after a moment's thought.  
"I am absolutely positive. May I suggest that you convince yourself of the truth of my words?"

"Well, for all I care. Bring me this ominous woman." Cedric nodded in relief, bowed to his King and hurried off to comply with his assignment.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Henry was alone, he plunked down onto the only chair available and buried his face in his hands.  
"This woman can't possibly be Catherine," he muttered, feeling upset about this recent development. Why should she seek refuge in a convent when half of Italy and due to the marriage of her eldest daughter even the Spanish court lay at her feet?

And yet, the prospect that he might have found his wife was finally getting to him. He had already imagined several scenarios months ago about how to react to a possible return of his wife. Anything from screaming, ranting, arresting her wordless and exiling Catherine to the tower. Or embracing and kissing her passionately to remind her to whom she damn well belonged.

Waiting for Cedric's return felt like an eternity to Henry. An eternity where he ran a swath in the mossy underground.

When at last the tarpaulin at the entrance of the tent was torn open, the king of France intently spun around, staring spellbound at the woman in a nun's habit who was gently being pushed into the tent by Cedric.

She was small, terribly thin and stood there before him with her head down, staring impassively at the ground. His first impulse was to breathe a sigh of relief and send the woman away without a second glance. That nun couldn't be his feisty wife on any account. She was far too slim and slender for that. And too quiet.  
"My king?" Cedric looked in his direction questioningly, his hands still resting on the nun's shoulder to keep her from running away.

Before he paid any more attention to that woman, Henry went to his table, poured himself a goblet of wine and started to slowly circle his female visitor.  
He paused in front of the woman, took a sip, then he reached for her chin to direct her lowered head upward.

Expressive hazel and well-known eyes stared back at him. A sound of surprise escaped his lips and the goblet slid from his hand.  
Taking advantage of this moment of confusion, the nun spun around and tried to run towards the exit of his tent. But Henry reacted with lightning speed and grabbed her by her slender wrist.

"Where are you going, Catherine?!" Henry hollered and dragged her back to the center of the tent. "Thank you, Cedric, that would be all for now. Place two guards in front of my tent. For now, I will have a serious word with my wife, and as we both know, she has recently developed a distinctive flight instinct. And now leave."

Henry kept his eyes fixed on Catherine who scowled at him accusingly.  
"Don't you have anything to say to me, woman?" He asked with a threatening undertone.  
But Catherine remained silent and after a few seconds she turned her head to the side so that her husband could only stare at her profile.  
He had forgotten how beautiful her face was - especially her profile - even though her cheeks looked worryingly sunken in.

"What is there to say?" She hissed defensively, raising her hands as if wanting to cross them over her chest, only to let them sink again with an undefinable expression on her face and without having achieved her task.

But Henry refused to be provoked by her, instead he circled her once again unhurried.  
"For example the reason for your hasty escape six months ago," he whispered irritably into her ear and prevented her from putting some distance between them by wrapping his hand around her upper arm.

"My absence should have been very convenient for you. After all, you couldn't get rid of me fast enough. Tell me Henry, are we acutually divorced by now or did you manage to annul our marriage?" Her tone was sharp and aggressive.  
"Au contraire, my darling, you're still my wife!" He answered and was surprised at how complacent his words sounded.

At that Catherine rolled with her eyes which annoyed the hell out of him, so he grabbed her arm again and yanked her towards the candles to look at her more closely.  
His rude treatment provoked his queen to cry out in a low voice. A scream she couldn't suppress in time.  
"You're hurting me!" She whispered so softly that it nearly excaped his attention.  
Henry did not let go of her, but he loosened his grip.  
"Since when are you so squeamish?" His words dripped with irony. "Let me look at you."

In the pale candlelight his eyes wandered over her petite form and got stuck on the white veil. This unusual sight elicited a joyless laugh.  
"This habit doesn't suit you," he said. "Take off the veil, it looks ridiculous."

To give more expression to his demand, Henry began to pull on the heavy cloth in eagerness.  
"Henry! Don't!" She slapped his fingers away with one hand and fumbled around with her veil. The king took a step back and watched Catherine trying to release the taut wrapping while using only one hand.

It took him a moment before he realized what was bothering him about this scene. It was Catherine's left hand that was hanging limp and motionless at her side. He even thought he saw a slight tremor she wasn't able to control.

Even though Henry could barely grant her any patience, he let her carry on and stared at her carefully braided hair instead, that slowly came to light under the veil. With a tug he untied the ribbon that held her braid together and unraveled her strawberry blonde curls.

"Why a monastery?" He asked her suddenly.  
"A convent is not better or worse than any other place," Catherine replied cryptically, and the way she held her left arm irritated Henry more and more.  
Did she get hurt?

He decided to put his theory to a practical test. Henry poured his wife a cup of wine. Then he stepped around her and placed himself on her left side. This way she could only reach for the goblet he handed her with her left hand. At least without having to turn around.  
"Surely not better than returning to the fold of your Medici family," he replied, watching her vigilantly. Catherine shrugged her shoulders and reached for the wine. With her right hand.

Before his wife could even react, Henry grabbed her left arm and pulled her sleeve up determinedly. He deliberately ignored Catherine's startled outcry, as well as her desperate attempt to free her arm.  
What he saw shocked him. Her upper arm was adorned with a bright red and jagged scar whose margin seemed infected. A veritable web of many smaller scars stretched out on her forearm. They also looked anything but healed.

"You were hurt," he stated unnecessarily and carefully ran his other hand over the scarred area.  
"Mind your own business, would you?" hissed his wife, taking her uninjured hand to free her left arm from his grip.  
"How did that happen?" He demanded to know as if he hadn't heard her previous words. But Catherine remained silent.

After a few minutes, however, she broke the self-imposed silence.  
"What happens to me now?" She wanted to know and looked at him questioningly with big, dark eyes.  
"I haven't decided yet," was Henry's answer and it wasn't even a lie. He did not know what to do yet, now that he had found her.

The only thing he knew was that he needed to bring some distance between them in order to think more clearly.  
"But if you do not want to impair your situation, my darling wife, I hope you won't cause any more difficulties."  
With these words, Henry went to the exit of his tent and assessed Catherine one last time with an imperious look. "When I come back, you'd better still be here, awaiting me, amicable and obedient."

Then he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Henry stepped outside and took a deep breath, silently enjoying the feeling of fresh oxygen flowing his lungs. A moment later he exhaled with a heavy sigh and reopened his eyes. Then he went in search of Cedric.

He found him among the other soldiers in front of a blazing fire. One of the men was stirring a huge cast-iron pot that smelled heavenly, while two others were busy eviscerating a freshly killed deer.

When Cedric spotted his King and friend, the stocky man gave the other soldiers a short nod and rose from his spot at the fire. Together they went for a short stroll outside their camp to talk without being overheared. But instead of giving in to the curiosity that was certainly eating him away, Cedric merely looked at Henry full of expectation.

"I can not believe that she had submerged in a convent of all things. Did you happen to find out more about the circumstances?"  
"No, they didn't answer any of my questions. To be honest, your wife did not accompany me voluntarily," his silver-haired friend admitted. But Henry dismissed his remorse with a wave of his hand.

"Do not worry, my friend. I never expected that. Catherine isn't exactly known for her cooperation."  
Lost in thought Henry scratched his stubby chin.  
"Did anyone else recognise my wife or have seen you bringing her into my tent?" He finally asked.  
"No," Cedric assured him. Henry nodded, then he went back to brood over his current dilemma.

After some minutes had passed, his friend dared to speak up.  
"You don't know what to do with her, now that she's back?"  
"Nobody knows her true identity, we are in the middle of nowhere..." Henry stopped and stared into the distance where the sun began to slowly sink into the nearest montain knowe, turning their surroundings into a beautiful red twilight.  
"And no one would ever know what has happened to our missing Queen?" Cedric dared to cothe his thoughts in ords. Thoughts that triggered a pang of conscience in Henry. For a moment he allowed this cruel scenario to take place in his mind's eye, but then he shook his head vehemently.

Because no matter how many times he had threatened Catherine with death in the past, he wouldn't - no, he couldn't – murder her in cold blood and cover up her death like nothing ever had happened. After all, she was the mother of his children and he had loved her once.

A small and tentative voice from the bottom of his heart whispered that he had never stopped loving his wife. He simply had banished his feelings for her after their marital problems had become unbearable and opened his heart to other women instead. But if he was being honest with himself, the lion's share of his heart still belonged to Catherine. Even if neither he nor she ever wanted him to admit it.

That was probably one of the many reasons why he sometimes mistreated or even manhandled her harder than necessary. But his verbal and sometimes physical brutality had not diminished his feelings. It had just increased the abyss between them.

So now, if he pulled off murdering her cowardly without any sign of honor, he would basically kill a part of himself. And in the end there actually was no longer the need to get rid of his wife, since the Queen of Scots had changed her choice of a husband months ago and was now married to Francis, Catherine's and his first-born son. Which meant he didn't need to step up his efforts to legitimate his bastard son Sebastian. In addition, her reappearance at French court would hopefully make the treasury of her Medici family accessible for him once again. Something he and France sorely needed.

No, Catherine didn't deserve a malicious murder plot but care, welfare and some proper food. He would lie if her miserable condition didn't worry him. He had never seen his strong and usually unbreakable wife in such a fragile and gaunt state before.

"Tomorrow half of our troop will leave for the last three border point controls while the other half will escort their King and Queen back to court. Ride ahead and find an appropriate dress for my wife. Cedric, this conversation..."  
Cedric hurried to complete his king's sentence.  
"...never took place. I am convinced that this is the right decision, my King."

They both knew that Henry did not need any encouragement from his subordinate, but they knew each other well enough that Cedric enjoyed the privilege of speaking freely to his king.

"Nevertheless, I can't help feeling that Catherine will make me regret this decision rather sooner than later. Bring her something to eat, old friend. Meanwhile, I will pay this convent a visit." He was eager to learn more about Catherine's escape and her injuries.

With half a dozen of his guards, Henry arrived at the convent that had been his wife's home for the last six month. And although the impressive building was old and battered by the elements, the property looked well-kept.  
Henry not only discovered fruit-bearing trees and multileveled vegetable patches, numerous herbs grew here as well.

The King of France climbed the narrow stairs and raised his fist to knock when the door was torn open and he found himself facing a skinnly nun that looked at him with a grim and resolute expression on her thin face.

"What else could your King possibly ask for of this convent and the poor women who have taken refuge behind these walls? You have already received a more than generous portion of our latest harvest! In addition, I demand that you immediately release the hapless woman you dragged away against her will! Go tell that your King." The nun ranted without a greeting and Henry could not help but feel respect for her courage.

"You can tell him in person, good woman," he replied milder than intended.  
The old woman looked at him from head to toe, then bowed her head in acknowledgement without seeming ashamed for her previous outburst. For some unknown reason Henry liked her imperturbability.

"Well, your Majesty. Welcome to convent Saint Pierre de l'Almanarre. Come on in. But first I have to ask you and your soldiers to lay down your weapons. This is a peaceful house of God. I am Agnes, the Reverend mother of this order. Follow me."

Without giving Henry the chance of an answer, the old woman hurried away. He hesitated for a moment before taking off his sword and ordered his men to do the same. Then he followed the nun into a large hall.

When he entered the hall, some of the nuns left, dismissed with a nod by the reverend mother. The older woman made a welcoming gesture towards the wide wooden benches.  
"Take a seat."

Her invitation sounded more like a command and Henry watched his soldiers immediately obeying her in amusement, all of them seasoned men.  
"I can not imagine what a poor, unfortunate widow could have done to be dragged out of a convent by brute force. What is it you are accusing the woman of?"

She still sounded resolute and relentless. Henry, who remained standing, casually leaned against the table.  
"So she told you she was a widow?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"A widow or maybe a wife on the run from her beating or alcoholic husband, what's the difference? Many of the women who seek refuge here have a similar or likewise past. Only they know the whole sad truth about their formerly miserable lifes."

Agnes slowly circled one of the tables and stopped directly in front of Henry.  
"Who is her husband, that he has the power to personally involve the King of France in the search for her?" The reverend mother interweaved her callous, bony hands and looked at him with her intelligent steel-gray eyes.  
"Her husband is none other than the King himself. Mother Agnes, you have housed your Queen within these halowed halls."

This revelation nearly discountenanced the woman. But she quickly recovered from her shock and put on a thoughtful expression.  
"So Maria is Catherine de Medici?" She mumbled in surprise, rubbing her pointed chin. "Oh, that explains the Italian words she murmured in her feverish delirium." Her last words were merely spoken to herself but they made Henry prick up his ears.  
"Delirium? So you know what has happened to her?"

"The only thing I know for sure is that you can thank God for your wife still being among the living. When we found her in the woods behind the convent, she was more dead than alive."  
Henry had to swallow hard at this information.  
"So she had other injuries besides those on her arm that I've already discovered?"

"No, but because of these injuries, Maria - forgive me, Catherine - came into contact with some kind of nerve toxin. Something we did not know at first and that was nearly fatal for your wife."

"Were you able to cure the poisoning?"  
"Only partly, I'm afraid. Your wife is still weak. In fact, she's only been back on her feet since a few weeks." Henry closed his eyes for the fraction of a second and sent a silent prayer to heaven, thanking God for saving his wife.

"I hope you forgive me for speaking frankly, your Majesty. This convent would be a safe place for Catherine. A place where she would be taken care of." Henry, who had already opened his mouth in protest, felt Mother Agnes bony yet surprisingly strong hand on his arm, stopping him.  
"We may be common nuns and our convent may be secluded, but the rumors that you're seeking a way to annul your marriage with your Medici wife has even got through to us."  
Only now did she allowed the king of France to take the floor.

"Then I suppose the rumors have reached you sooner than the truth, Mother Agnes. I do not intend to annul my marriage, nor divorce Catherine. But I thank you for your kindness and the self-abandonment you bestowed on my wife. And for nursing Catherine back to health. Of course I'm going to show you my gratitude. Do tell, does Catherine still have any belongings here? We shall leave tomorrow."

"In that case I trust your words you have spoken on blessed ground. We have found your wife with nothing but her bloodied and torn clothes on her back. A few days after finding her, we stumbled upon eight dead and nearly naked men. Next to them was a burned out coach. I assume that was your wife's carriage. We have buried these poor men. And do not worry about a possible compensation. Catherine has already shown us more gratitude than necessary."  
The old woman pointed at the ceiling, which, to Henry's surprise, seemed to be restored.  
"She gave me her necklace and earrings in order to sell them to make some much-needed expenditures."

Henry nodded in understanding but pulled out some coins and put them on the table nevertheless.  
"And hereby I show you my own gratitude for saving my Queen."

He looked at the nun thoughtfully, undetermined as to whether he should really ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue.  
"Thank you, even though it isn't necessary," Mother Agnes replied, slightly bowing her head in a thankful gesture. Then she looked up again and pierced him with her attentive eyes. Eyes nothing seemed to escape.  
"Go ahead, ask."  
"Catherine was wearing a habit and a veil. I'm just wondering if my wife...", Henry hesitated for a moment before continuing. "... did she take a vow?"

He did not know if it was his question in general or his discomfort in particular that tempted the old woman to smile in amusement.  
"You want to know if your wife has become a bride of Christ?" Agnes surprisingly laid her bony hand on his. "Do not worry, your Majesty. Just like us nuns, the women who have taken refuge here wear our habit for reasons of protection when going outside of the convent. Your wife did not become a nun."

A relief he could not even explain seeped through his innermost. Henry nodded, then started to leave the hall. But mother Agnes held him back.  
"I assume that there are no female servants among your entourage, are there?"  
Henry abnegated in irritation.  
"Then allow me to send you one of our novices to help your wife on your trip back home. She'll arrive tomorrow morning at dawn."

This time, too, she sounded resolute and Henry realized that she was not willing to withdraw her offer. So he thought about it for a moment and recognized the benefit of her proposal which prompted him to nod in agreement.  
"Fine, send her." He paused before asking his next question. "Agnes, you don't happen to have a pain-relieving or anti-inflammatory tincture?"  
The nun looked at him with her intense eyes, then she nodded.  
"Of course, I'll prepare something for you. The novice will bring it."  
Henry thanked her and signaled his soldiers to get ready for departure.

When the King and his soldiers returned at their camp, a blanket of darkness had already descended upon them. Only the flickering lights of several small campfires and some torches bestowed some diffuse light.  
Henry searched for their camp chef and ordered his food to be delivered within the next few minutes, then he retired to his tent.

The sight that greeted him was completely different from anything he could have imagined. The tray with food was still on the table, most of it was not even touched. Catherine was sitting in his chair, her head tilted sideways in the most uncomfortable way. Quite obviously she had fallen asleep from exhaustion before she had finish her meal. Even in her sleep he could detect small worry lines on her forehead. She looked restless.

He crossed the distance between them as quietly as possible and dropped on his knees in front of her. Carefully as not to wake her, he pulled her left sleeve up to examine the extent of her injury without her stopping him this time.

With a heavy sigh he pulled her sleeve back down and got up. Henry stroked her cheek with his fingertip, then he picked Catherine up to carry her to his sleeping cot. Her light weight shocked him and made him realize once again how critical her condition must have been.  
He had to make sure his wife was eating enough in order to regain her strength.

Just when he had laid her down, her eyelids began to flutter.  
"Go back to sleep," he whispered, spreading his fur over her petite form.  
"Is this a dream?" She murmured in confusion, blinking up at him tiredly. "Is that you, Henry?"  
"Shhhhh, it's all right. I'm here, mon coeur. Go back to sleep."  
Uncertainly he raised his hand and stroked Catherine's cheek for a second time this day.  
How long had it been since he had last bestowed his wife with tender care and love?  
Way too long it seemed.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite her exhaustion, the constant and painful throbbing in her arm kept Catherine awake. Whenever she was about to drift away, a wrong movement tore her out of her foggy brained half-sleep. For without her painkilling remedy that was normally supplemented with some sleep-inducing herbs, her alarmed mind wouldn't come to rest, no matter how exhausted her body might be.  
Henry's presence did not contribute to her relaxation either. She did not have to see him to sense his presence right behind her.

Another rustling revealed that he was still brooding over his map and yet she felt his eyes resting on her from time to time. So she tried to calm her mind down with sheer willpower.

Just when she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness, his presence suddenly became overpowering. Catherine was startled when her husband clasped her hips and shoulders and carefully moved her to the outer edge of the bunk to spoon her from behind. Henry wrapped his arms around her midsection shortly thereafter, prevented her from moving away from him, while he pressed his muscular body against her back and bottom in the most intimate way.

"Henry?!", her voice sounded less firm than she wished for. "What is it you are doing right now?"  
"I'm looking for a reasonably comfortable position and I would appreciate if you'd keep still. This bunk is awfully small."  
"Oh, so you've noticed?" she grumbled sarcastically and turned around despite his warning. Now the tip of her nose almost touched his. "Henry, why don't you leave me alone and sleep in your own plank bed?"  
"Because this is my plank bed," he grumbled and his hot breath was brushing her cheek.  
"Well, this is great."

"Does her Majesty have a problem with this arrangement?" Her husband's words sounded harsh and slightly accusing.  
"Yes, of course I do have a problem with that. And why shouldn't I? We're literally strangers, Henry." His closeness was getting to her, depriving her of the air to breathe. Air that seemed to have become thinner and thinner since her escape several months ago.  
"I'm not the one who took flight, Catherine."

His words prompted her to sit up in the darkness and stare down at her husband in bewilderment.  
"It was you who left me with no other choice", she accused him outraged.  
The surface under her wobbled slightly, which led her to suspect that Henry also had rosen to an upright position. "You threatened to kill me, Henry, and all I ever wanted was to save Francis' life."

"Francis? What has Francis to do with all of this?" Henry's voice roared through the tent and suddenly a candle was lit right next to her.  
"Everything, Henry. EVERYTHING," she screamed with anger over so much ignorance. "You still don't get it, do you?"  
"Apparently not. So explain it to me!" Her husband yelled back at her.

"Nostradamus' prophecy..." As soon as Henry heard her seer's name, he interrupted Catherine and grabbed her by her shoulders to shake her almost violently.  
"Because of some squishy vision your self-proclaimed prophet had you've abandoned France, your children and your King?" Henry just stared at her and shook his head in disbelief. "Oh please, don't be so damn complacent. As if you had not secretly been pleased about my disappearance. You wanted to visit Rome for having our marriage annulled and you expelled Francis from the line of succession in order to clear the way to the throne for Sebastian! Have you ever wondered what is to become of Francis or your other legitimate children?" Catherine fiercely hit him with her uninjured arm but Henry lay his hands around her shoulders like a vice to stop her violent outburst.

"My children are just fine, Catherine. As fine as children can be who have been abandoned by their mother," Henry took a verbal blow that hit her deep in the guts.  
"Don't you dare..." she threatened him with rage. They both knew damn well that her children were her most sacred treasure and that she would die without hesitation for each one of them.

"Your abscondence nearly killed you which would have made your children half-orphans, Catherine. Do tell, did you ever plan to return?"  
Her husband grabbed for her left useless arm and held it up as if presenting her a piece of evidence.  
"Surely I would not have left them with you and your whims. I just wasn't... ready yet." Her last words were a quiet and hesitant whisper.

"I know, Mother Agnes informed me about your condition. How are you doing, I mean really? What happened?" The sudden worry that resonated in his voice surprised her.  
"It's none of your business husband, after all you've never been interested in my well-being before. So save your hypocritical sympathy for someone else," she replied irreconcilably and steeled herself against his unusual and insightful interest in her fate.

"You're making it very hard to be appreciative of your obstreperous behaviour." And although his statement sounded harsh, his words still radiated a certain warmth. "You are my wife, Catherine. So your health is very much of my concern." After hearing this statement she raised her uninjured hand and pressed it as hard as possible against his shoulder to free herself.

To her surprise Henry flinched first, then he groaned loadly. His hands released her left arm to palpate his shoulder with a painful expression on his handsome face.  
"What?" she asked in alarm.  
"Why does every situation always have to escalate with you?" he rumbled in a disgruntled mood and sat down on the cot.  
"With me?" Catherine's voice almost overturned with anger over his one-dimensional perception. It was so like Henry – always blaming others. "May I remind you that it was you, who threated me because of your greed for England which forced me to take such drastic measures," she made clear vehemently.

Yet she stood there in front of him, brushing his hands aside to see for herself what was bothering him.

"Henry, that's infected!" Even in the sparse candlelight she could see the angry reddening around the wound's edge on his shoulder.  
"It looks like we have at least one thing in common, woman. We're both miserable at looking after ourselves."

Catherine did not respond to his realization.  
"Has anyone ever looked at it?" She asked instead and was happy to draw attention from her afflictions to his own.  
"It's not half as wild as it looks."  
"Yes, until the moment a sepsis carries you off. You should go and see sister Erica, she will certainly be able to help you."  
"This will have to wait, we will be leaving tomorrow morning," he announced and removed her hand from his shoulder with gentle force.

"So you have decided what's going to happen now?" she asked cautiously and could no longer fight the discomfort that was slowly spreading through her innermost.  
"Yes," he replied without further explanation and grabbed her by the hip to pull her down to their cot. "And now I want you to lie down and go back to sleep. You need to conserve your strength. Tomorrow will be an arduous day." Henry used Catherine's perplexity to gently force her into a horizontal position.

"And that means..." In order to interrupt her, her husband put his index finger on her lips.  
"...that we are going to return to court. Exactly. And now shush!" Henry demanded and spread his fur over their bodies.  
Catherine realized that any further protest would be in vain at this point. So she backed down for the time being and tried to find a reasonably comfortable position. But with every movement she collided with some part of Henry's body.

"Catherine," he grumbled in disgruntlement when her knee came dangerously close to his privates.  
"This cot is too small for two," she complained instead of an apology and turned around once again. She wasn't used to sleeping in such confined space and eminently she wasn't used to Henry's closeness. A closeness she could feel in every fibre of her body.

Then all of a sudden she felt his hand sliding right beneath her buttocks and a second later she was being lifted fitfully into his arms. A small sound of surprise escaped her lips.  
"Henry," she muttered warningly when she found herself lying half on top of him with his strong and masculine chest touching her stomach and breasts. Henry's hand was still on her backside to keep her from moving out of his grasp.  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
"This is a space-saving arrangement that neither strains my shoulder nor your left arm too much."  
"Aha. Completely unselfish, I see," she commented dryly and shoved his hand away from her bottom.


	6. Chapter 6

Henry's chest quavered slightly as though he was suppressing an ardent laugh, then his hand slid up her hip and caress her back instead.  
His coarse fingers paused briefly once they've reached her delicate neck. Then she felt him bury them into her loose hair.  
"You need to eat more to gain some weight, you're only skin and bones."  
Henry's comment was so unexpected that Catherine was left speechless for a few seconds while his fingers started massageging her neck instead.

"Isn't this something you of all people should like? Finally your wife is as lithe and lissom as the whores you obviously like so much."  
The Queen of France couldn't suppress the bitterness she was overcome with by hearing his glib words.  
It was no open secret that Henry preferred slender and tall women over his own short and rather curvaceous wife, whose chambers he had only visited in the recent years to conceive more heirs.

"Don't be ridiculous. A few more pounds would be more becoming to you. I like your curves." Henry's assertion left her speechless again.  
But when Catherine was finally able to compose herself, a joyless laugh escaped her throat.  
"Dear husband, it amazes me time and again how hypocritical you can be." She said and was pleased at how calm and emotionless her voice sounded.

Actually she was torn between feeling deeply hurt and angered about how complacently Henry always put a slant on his very own truth.  
Because her husband never hid the fact that he found her less attractive as a woman. He had shown her his indifference quite inconsiderately in the last two decades of their marriage.  
His numerous mistresses and the love affairs he had uninhibitedly pursued right under her nose were more than clear proof. As well as the few sporadic nights per year he had spent with his spouse that could be counted on the finger of one hand.

But there had also been better times. Times she sometimes still longed for in admittedly weak hours. Because back then their mutual love had burned hotter and brighter than any fireplace could and in his strong arms she had felt like the most beautiful woman on earth. How stupid she had been. Stupid and naive.

No, she had no doubt that Henry had loved her once. He had always been exceptionally enthusiastic and was quick at kindling with love for new, beautiful things. Especially for women. And even if Catherine wasn't like his usual type of women - the kind he was attracted to - the idea of being able to call a woman his wife at the tender age of 14 had send him into transports of delight. Finally there was someone in his life who looked up to him, someone to protect and someone whose love he could always be sure of.

But just as quickly as he ignites in passion for something new, in the blink of an eye the fire in Henry's veins could cool down as well. As soon as he was getting bored or - much worse – when dark clouds in the form of complications appeared on the rose-colored sky of supposed bliss, Henry Valois started looking for new distractions.

Her inability to conceive an heir for ten years and her resulting despair had been the first nail in the coffin of their marriage. Diane, who he had ordered back to court out of defiance, was the last.  
Because unlike his wife, his mistress still obtained an important role in his everyday life. But especially in his nights.

"Since when is it hypocritical to compliment my wife or express my concern for your wellbeing?" Henry's words tore Catherine out of her gloomy considerations and she needed a short moment to return to the here and now.  
"If it's not genuine, Henry."  
"Now you do me wrong. I didn't want to offend you or hurt your feelings with my words, Catherine. Let's be honest for a change, shall we? You've been very sick and you haven't fully recovered. And even if you don't want to hear me telling you this, but you're not well yet and your health is still fragile. And that is a cause for concern in my view."

Henry paused after his emotional speech as if there was still something on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't sure if it would be wise to verbalize his last thought. But he continued nonetheless.  
"For the sake of completeness I would like to add that despite all the things that stood between us, your curves were never part of these differences. In fact, they're among the attributes I happen to like a lot about you."

Catherine didn't know how to interpret his words. What did he expect from her? That she thanked him like the obedient wife she never has been?  
She just couldn't figure out her husband. Only Henry could manage to wrap a compliment in a reproach about their undeniable differences.

In addition she did not understand his motives for bringing her back to French court despite all circumstances.  
What kind of role did he plan for her to play in this great second-rate theatre they called their marriage? Did he possibly even consider making a warning example of her? Let her fall to a delusive sense of comfort and safety in order to demonstrate to the world what happened to disobedient queens once they returned?

"Henry," her worries made her voice sound unusually brittle.  
"Yes, Catherine?" His fingers continued to play with her hair, stroking her sensitive neck from time to time.

Suddenly she didn't know what else to say to Henry at this point. So many unspoken words rattled around her brain, but any word she could possibly voice would probably be one too much.  
"It's nothing," she whispered in a resigned low voice and gave in to the exhaustion that drew more and more energy from her body each passing minute.  
God alone knew what her husband was up to. She would certainly neither beg nor plead for anything, no matter how invidious her situation may be.

Because of her injury - whose full extent Henry fortunately had not yet realized - she might have been stricken, but even this handicap would not bring Catherine de Medici to her knees. And certainly she would not grovel for her life.

"Then go to sleep." Henry's breath grazed her ear and gave her goose bumps.

Catherine was far too exhausted to resist her husband's order at this point.  
A few minutes later she drifted into a deep and restless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, King Henry quietly pushed the tarpaulin of his tent aside and stepped outside. Not without taking one last, almost longing look at his sleeping wife.

Catherine's sleep had been restless, at one point he even thought he had heard a soft whimper coming from her lips. Now, however, she seemed to have finally come to rest and lay there motionless, curled up into a small little ball under his fur.

So he decided to let her sleep as long as possible before they had to pack up their camp and move on. She would need every ounce of energy she could summon up for the exhausting journey that lay ahead of her.

He was greeted by the breathtaking view of the rising sun that bathed the mountain tops in a red and golden light and the cool morning air that blew away his tiredness. The moss at his feet shimmered slightly from morning dew.  
Henry strechted with a loud yawn and watched the camp around him come to life.

"No one saw her leave his tent. So I assume she spent the night with him. Just imagine: A nun!" The voice Henry heard turned over with excitement while his eyes searched for the person who was without any doubt speaking about him and his wife.  
"Well, as our King, he for sure enjoys certain privileges. After weeks of abstinence I most certainly wouldn't kick any woman out of my bed. Not even a nun."

Henry detected two rather young men near the horses who seemed to be unaware of his presence. And apparently, Catherine's attendance in his tent had already caused some gossip. Gossip he was going to stop right before their departure.  
"Haven't you boys got anything better to do than chatting like a pair of vulgar fishwifes?" he barked angrily in their direction. The sharpness of his words caused them to flinch in alarm. Clearly feeling embarrassed, both men offered him a stammered apology.

But their lame excuses ricocheted from their monarch, who was already crossing the camp with long and angry steps in search of Cedric.  
Henry found his friend at the fireplace, where some of the men were already preparing a simple yet nutritive breakfast.  
"Cedric", Henry nodded at his companion in greeting.  
"Good morning, my king."

Henry grabbed the older man's arm and indicated his friend to follow him.  
The two men walked silently side by side for a few minutes before the king began to speak.  
"We will leave within the hour. But before our departure I want you to round our men up. I will inform them about the change of plans and reveal the presence of their Queen. Because quite obviously Catherine's presence didn't go unnoticed. I will nip any weird rumour in the bud. Did you find her a proper dress? She can't possibly travel in her hideous habit."  
"Yes, the dress has already been brought to your tent," replied his right-hand man, nodding in agreement.

"Good. I want you to captain the men staying and patroling this area, okay my friend?" Although his words sounded like a question, they both knew they were an order.  
"Of course, your Majesty."

The moment the men returned to the fire, a nun appeared in their clearing. By all indications that had to be the young novice Mother Agnes had send to assist Catherine. Henry saw the girl taking a tentative step forward, all the while nervously gazing at his soldiers so he waved her over to brief her on her impending duties. Then one of the soldiers accompanied her to the royal tent to assist his wife getting ready for their departure.

After a restless, pain stricken night, Catherine found it difficult to bring herself to get out of the cot, no matter how uncomfortable it was.  
The mere thought of spending another day at Henry's side, moreover in the saddle, robbed her of any energy she might have left. Besides the constant throbbing of her injured arm was a clear reminder that she was anything but fit to travel. How long would she be able to keep the full extent of her injury a secret from her husband?

And while she was looking rather clueless at the emerald green dress that had a simple cut yet still epitomised understated elegance, the tarpaulin of the tent was pushed aside. Catherine jerked around in alarm and instead of facing Henry or one of his soldiers, she was greeted with the sight of a young novice.

"Florence," she cried in surprise, but the girl just stood stock-still at the entrance of the tent until she finally dropped an awkward curtsey. Catherine saw the cheeks in her pale, freckled face redden with embarrassment.  
"Your Majesty", Florence finally stammered, whereupon the Queen of France approached her slowly with an encouraging smile on her face .  
"Catherine," she corrected her gently and with her uninjured hand she reached for the girl that had dedicatively cared for her in the weeks after that malicious assassination attempt. Florence had hardly left her side during the difficult time of her discovery.

"To be honest, I don't know what... um, how to behave, Your Ma... Catherine." The Queen's first name went only hesitantly over the novice's lips and Catherine saw how insecure the girl was.

The Medici didn't know much about her past, only that she didn't have a nice start in life and in spite of her youth she had already experienced a lot of terrible things. And yet Florence was one of the most gentle and selfless persons she had ever met.  
"No different than before," she assured her and added humbly: "You've saved my life."

"A simple act of humanity. Even though I cannot deny feeling honored for having saved my queen from death", the girl quickly added and gave Catherine an insecure yet honest smile. A smile the monarch returned with motherly leniency.  
"How come you know my true identity?" Catherine finally asked.  
"Our Reverend Mother sent me to assist you on your upcoming journey after your husband's visit. And I'm also bringing you your ointment." Only now did she notice the small bag Florence was holding in her hand and nodded in relief.

Florence was truely a godsend. The girl would be able to help her hiding her handicap from Henry. She already knew the full extent of her injury and therefore she would be able to inconspicuously support Catherine without her husband or his soldiers noticing her physical impairment.  
"Let me take care of your arm first, then I will help you getting dressed. The King will send you some breakfast shortly, afterwards we are going to depart."

After Catherine was dressed and saturated, the novice accompanied her outside. It was a strange feeling going back to wearing a normal dress after all those months in the convent, even though it was less pompous than her usual wardrobe. But the cut was extremely beneficial for her figure and the color was of such a beautiful emerald green that she gave in to her vanity for a short moment.

"Ah, there you are!" Henry hastened towards her with wide steps and reached out for her uninjured hand. "It's about time," he whispered into her ear. Before Catherine could wonder if he was meaning their imminent departure or something else, Henry directed her to his waiting soldiers and started to speak.

"Soldiers! Many of you may have wondered at the beginning of our mission what might have caused me - your King - to trade my comfortable sleeping chambers for a tent with an uncomfortable cot and the dust of the street, no less in a time of peace. Maybe some of you have even wondered if your King is slowly but surely losing his mind".

His words made Cedric and some of the men chuckle in amusement. And contrary to Catherine's expectation, Henry didn't react with annoyance, he rather winked at his longtime friend, while a waggish smile lighted up his handsome face.

"And you're right. I've lost something of great importance whose value I haven't always appreciated. Something, or rather someone I took for granted in my life." Her husband surprised her by pulling her closer and giving her an indefinable look that caused a hot shiver running down her spine and made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand up.  
"My Queen," Henry suddenly shouted, tearing up their intertwined hands.

Catherine experience the rest of his speech through a heavy fog of confusion. His charismatic way of speaking irritated her, as did the way her husband was still holding on to her. What was Henry up to?  
She had rather expected being dragged violently through the camp in order to teach her and his men a lesson about how he dealt with inconvenient problems.

But he did nothing of the sort, just reminded his soldiers that her safety was their main priority now and that the men rather treat her with the utmost respect since she was not only his wife but also their Queen.

And while she was still worried about his true motives, Henry gave his order to pack up their camp. Then he galantly offered his arm to his wife and accompanied her to the fireplace where some trunks served as seating. With a determinant gesture he ordered the novice to follow them.

"Stay with Catherine until we're ready to depart," he instructed the young girl who nodded confirmingly.  
"As you wish, Your Majesty. Oh, before I forget, Mother Agnes gave me something for you," the novice said and took a small jar out of her bag.  
The King of France thanked the girl, then he turned around and made an attempt to leave. After a few steps however, Henry turned around with a questioning look on his face, as if something important had occurred to him.

"Have you eaten?" he wanted to know and assessed her with watchful eyes, slowly reducing the distance between them. For the fraction of a second she considered giving him a snappish answer, but then Catherine reconsidered her situation.  
She was forced to travel by his side for several weeks, not to forget they were going to spend their nights together in close quarters. But what convinced her in the end were his soulful eyes, where she saw sincere concern.

"Yes, I have," she replied in a calm voice and was surprised when Henry gently caressed her cheek hereupon.  
"Good. I'll come and get you once we're done."  
Then he disappeared between his soldiers.


	8. Chapter 8

Henry, who supervised the dismantling of the camp together with Cedric, gave his second in command his final instructions for the tasks ahead of him. All the while he kept on looking over at Catherine. From this distance she looked tiny and very slim, which gave him even more cause for concern.  
With her fragile condition in mind, he personally chose a calm gelding for his wife that was sure-footed, reliable and not very temperamental.

When it was time to mount their horses, the King led the good-natured grey and his own stallion over to the tree trunks where Catherine and the novice were waiting for their departure. Henry stopped in front of the women and signaled one of the young lads to bring the third horse that was destined for the nun.

"Here we go, are you ready?" He asked Catherine and looked at her intently. His wife answered him with a crooked smile and nodded in resoluteness.  
Henry knew this stubborn expression on her face by heart and wasn't surprised to see a spark of wild determination shimmer in her expressive brown eyes.  
Her damned Medici pride would eventually kill her one day.

"Don't let us stop you, your Majesty. I can assist your wife."  
Even before she had finished speaking, the young nun reached for the reins of the grey horse. Henry was about to agree, but then he caught the conspiratorial glances the two women exchanged, which prompted him to change his mind.  
"That's not necessary," he therefore grumbled and brought the gelding in position for Catherine to mount the horse.  
"Henry, we can manage on our own," his queen tried to persuade him, but her protest aroused his suspicion all the more.  
"But I insist. Come here!" Even though he spoke with a calm voice, none of the women failed to notice that he was dead serious.

Catherine resigned to her fate and slowly approached the grey horse. When she stood next to Henry on the left side of the gelding, he all of a sudden realized her dilemma. A dilemma she had been trying to hide from him.  
For being able to mount a horse, one had to be able to pull oneself up with the left hand carrying all body weight and Henry doubted that his wife was capable of doing so. And she obviously preferred the novice's help over the help of her own husband.

Henry swallowed his anger and indicated for Catherine to put her foot into the stirrup. Before she knew it, Henry had wrapped his arms around her waist and effortlessly lifted her into the saddle without her even lifting her injured arm.  
"Stay by my side," Henry instructed his wife and mounted his own stallion.  
He skilfully bridled his horse that was forging ahead and gave his signal for their departure.

"Let me know if you need a break," he demanded but he just needed to take one look into Catherine's face that was set in grim determination to know that she would rather die than ask for a break and thus admit weakness.  
"Stubborn woman", he mumbled into his beard and intended to pay special attention to her in order to recognize any signs of fatigue or even pain at an early stage.

During the first few hours Catherine was riding almost silently beside him and Henry wondered what he might have done to her that caused his wife to punish him with silence. But the longer they rode, the more strained his otherwise so tough wife seemed and the King gradually understood that she was only trying to save energy. Catherine wasn't sulking at all, she was just completely focused on their ride and her horse.

"Would you like to take a break?" he asked after they had climbed a steep and fastidious hilltop, but Catherine just shook her head at his well-intentioned question.  
Waveringly, the king weighed up all possible options.

In the distance, the crystal blue water of a small mountain lake was shimmering in the sun in a mesmerising way. At the thought of cooling off, Henry wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and decidedly pointed at the lake.  
"We will rest over there for half an hour. After this exhausting ascent the horses need some water."

It wasn't the horses, whose constitution he was worried about, but he didn't want to shame his wife unnecessarily, since she was already fighting so hard for her composure.

With a fast trot they rode towards the lake. From the corner of his eye Henry suddenly noticed a movement on the ground. But before he could warn Catherine of the snake on her right, her grey horse shied at the reptile and bolted.  
In horror Henry watched his wife trying to control the startled animal in vain with only one hand. Her left hand was trembling so strongly that it was virtually useless in her attempt to control the gelding.

Dauntlessly Henry spurred his stallion and galloped off after his wife. Once he was close enough to the frightened animal, he reached for it's reins and tried to coax it in a reassuring voice. Gradually the grey horse calmed down and Henry risked a worried look at it's rider, who looked anything but happy about his intervention.  
"It's okay, I got it under control," she hissed in his direction, but Henry refused to release her reins.  
"Henry!" Catherine's angry tone was as sharp as a knife, almost threatening, so he reluctantly gave in and released the reins from his grip.

He silently watched her sorting the reins while using only one hand. Henry sighed. In her condition Catherine wouldn't be able to make the long way home. She already looked ready to collapse from exhaustion after only a few hours in the saddle, even though she tried very hard to hide it from him.  
No, he definitely wouldn't stand idly by, watching his wife risk her neck out of false pride.

She was going to spent the next stage of today's ride right before him on his horse, even if the prospect of doing so would most certainly make her anything but happy.

Knowing her, he forwent informing Catherine of his plan just yet and dismounted his horse. Henry went over to his wife and lifted her off as well. He deliberately ignored the fact that she was already making an attempt to descend on her own. What he didn't ignore was her delicate body in his arms. A body that was all soft and feminine.  
"Are you okay?" he wanted to know in an unusual soft voice and wondered where the tenderness he was recently experiencing came from every time he looked at his unapproachable and feisty wife.

But Catherine immediately freed herself from his grip and fended off his care with a rude gesture, as if dealing with some common servant and not the King of France who was also her husband. This behaviour was just like Catherine, thanking him for his help with anger and outright refusal.  
"Henry, give it a rest."

He let her go, but signalled the nun to take care of Catherine's welfare. There was still enough time on this journey to tame his stubborn Medici wife.  
For now that he had decided to take Catherine back and grant her his forgiveness, it was time to breathe new life into their marriage. They both would have to learn how to get along with each other. Again. At least if they were willing to give their marriage a second chance.

Henry knew that this wouldn't be an easy task, but on the other hand he was looking forward to reconquering his feisty Queen.


	9. Chapter 9

With a sullen expression on her face, the Queen of France observed her husband, who was shouting orders at his men but occasionally flashed a glance in her direction.  
His presence was almost overwhelming, and his sudden concern for her health was as surprising as it was unnerving for her. She even caught herself yearning for his old, selfish self. The man who had threatened her with death in the past without a pang of remorse. That was a behaviour she could deal with.  
But not with this intense, nearly suffocating care. She was simply not used to that. His new characteristic trait left her raw and vulnerable, causing her to react harsher than necessary at his efforts.

"His concern for your well-being seems sincere," Florence said, as if she had guessed Catherine's thoughts.  
"Neither you nor I should get used to it, even though it's a nice idea. Henry isn't known for his considerateness, nor for his undying love for his wife. Even less for his patience. God alone knows his true motives." The Italian broke off a piece of bread and absent-minded put it into her mouth. All the while never letting her husband out of her sight.

"Maybe he just missed you?" The novice replied with adolescent naivety, which prompted Catherine to laugh out with embitterment.  
"Missed me? Certainly not me, but he surely has missed my gold. I assume the Medici's have cut off their financial support. And probably he's fed up with all those issues I used to take care of at court," she said with an unusual hard voice.

For whatever reason should her husband miss the women he never got tired of threatening with death in case she didn't bend to his will? Shortly before she had fled French court, he had considered either getting rid of her by the executioner's Axe or by an annulment of their marriage. A marriage all her children resulted from.

"People change. And sometimes you first have to lose the one thing you love most before you realize it's true value." Florence looked at her with persuasion written all over her pretty face. Catherine couldn't bring herself to destroy the girl's illusions with the power of the gruesome reality of her life.  
"We will see, child," she therefore murmured as neutral as possible.

Henry chose this moment to rush at her, taking big, confident strides. This time he was only holding the reigns his own horse in his hand.  
"See, that didn't take him long, did it?" Catherine whispered and rose before her husband could reach her.  
"Is it time to finally move on?" she asked him and brushed the dirt off her skirts.  
"Yes, are you ready?"

Instead of giving him a direct answer, she just nodded.  
"Then come here," Henry requested, but Catherine just stared at him in confusion and didn't move a muscle. Her reaction prompted him to sigh heavily, before Henry stepped around her and grabbed her around the waist. At no notice at all he lifted his wife onto the saddle of his stallion.  
"Henry," Catherine shouted, but the King of France deliberately ignored her protest and mounted his horse behind her.  
"What are you doing? I have my own horse!"  
"For the rest of the day you will ride with me", Henry explained succinctly and spurred his stallion.

Shocked by this sudden start, Catherine clung to the knob of the saddle with her right hand. At the same time, however, Henry's muscular arm wrapped itself around her body to support her further.  
"Henry, I insist you let me down this instant," the Queen of France demanded indignantly, putting a particular strictness into her voice. But her words only provoked her husband to tighten his grip.

"No!" Henry's deep baritone was so close to her ear that his hot breath grazed her neck. "As long as I have the feeling that you are incapable of riding your own horse healthwise, you will ride with me. I happen to care about you and I will not risk you falling off your horse and breaking your neck. Now hold still and stop being so difficult, would you?"

In her despair, Catherine turned around to look at him, but she could see nothing but wild determination on his angular face.  
"Do you enjoy humiliating me?" She spat at him and tried to enlarge the distance between their bodies. But Henry only needed one powerful jolt to pull her back against his hard and masculine chest.  
"No, Catherine. I'm just trying to protect you from your damn Medici pride. Because even though you're trying very hard to hide it from me, I've noticed that your left arm has been more affected by that poison than you want me to know. And we are going to discuss this subject. Later."

They had reached the soldiers and since most of the men were looking at them, awaiting Henry's sign for their departure, Catherine swallowed the snarky response that lay on the top of her tongue. At least for the moment.  
"We're leaving," Henry informed his troop and trotted off at a brisk pace.

Catherine hated him for imposing his will on her. But not as much as he hated herself for feeling safe and secure in his arms despite her anger.

The following hours of their ride expanded to a tenacious mass of endless minutes. The fact that Catherine's back was snugly pressed against Henry's chest was unnerving and his stallion's smooth movements seemed to push her harder against his body, which was making matters worse.

His masculine, musky scent surrounded her, enveloping her into a cloud of sweet memories. Memories of a time long gone when she had taken the nearness of his body for granted. At that time his nearness had been everything she could ever ask for. It had brought her peace of mind and happiness. Apart from other, more sinful pleasures.  
Now, however, it only illustrated her uncertain future.

Even though Henry was unusually considerate and endearing, Catherine was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for his true motives to come to light.  
"Are you feeling all right?" His question came rather unexpected and caused her even more confusion.  
"Why do you care? It's not like my opinion would be of any importance for you."

She knew that she was outwearing his patience with every snappish answer she threw his way. It wouldn't take long before Henry was going to lose his false composure and explode. Basically, she was waiting for that moment.  
For she was able to deal with an angry Henry, but not with the unsettling illusion of an overly worried husband.

"I have asked you about your state of health, not your opinion, Catherine. Your opinion I never have to ask about, since you have the tendency of announcing it loud and clear, in the majority of cases even unasked. What I want to know is: Are you in pain?"

She didn't know if it was his tone, his choice of words or the question in general that made her turn her upper body around and yell at him in anger.  
"I'm always in pain, Henry! Every damn day. When I wake up, when I fall asleep and every second in between. So please refrain from asking me ever again if I'm in pain!"  
Her unexpected outburst frightened the both of them equally.

For the fraction of a second Catherine felt the grip around her body's center slacken, then it increasing more than ever. At that moment she regretted giving Henry such an intimate and honest insight into her state of health.

She didn't want him to know how bad her actual condition was, how useless her left arm has become and how painful her mere existence nowadays was. She was also ashamed to admit her weakness out loud and most of all in front of her husband.

"I'm sure Nostradamus will have some potion that will bring you some relief as soon as we're back. He may even be able to cure the poisoning." While Henry spoke with a calm and prudent tone, his hand stroked her waist in a comforting way.  
Surprised by his sensitivity and the tenderness of this gesture, she didn't push his hand away but rather drew strength from his affectionate touch. A touch she actually enjoyed against her expectations and in spite of her suspiciousness.

"There's only one thing I'd like you to promise me, Catherine. Let me know if your pain becomes unbearable. In that case we're going to make a break and the nun can take care of your arm." His sincere request for her admission broke her inner resistance.  
"Allright, Henry," she agreed quietly and felt her husband breathe a sigh of relief. Then, completely unexpectedly, Henry place a tender kiss on the nape of her neck.  
"Thank you. Can you manage another hour or two?"  
They both knew what her answer to his question would be. So she just nodded.

This time she didn't feel uneasy when she leaned back against her husband's broad chest and for the first time since Henry's men had dragged her from the convent, Catherine de Medici was able to relax her anguished body at least a bit.

Henry, who seemed to feel the change in her posture, adjusted her position so that her head could rest on his shoulder. He didn't say another word, he just made sure that she was sitting as comfortable as possible in front of him.


	10. Chapter 10

After three more hours - the sun was slowly wandering westerly while quenching the horizon into a bright orange light - their troop reached a small valley. Henry stopped his stallion, took in the old oaks that enframed rich green pastures and announced that they would set up their camp right here. While lifting Catherine from the saddle, he was already barking orders at his soldiers.  
"Tomorrow, or latest the day after, we are going to reach the lands of Lord Bernard. There we will be able to spend the night in a decent bed. How does that sound?" he asked good-naturedly and winked at her.  
"Heavenly," his Queen admitted, which prompted Henry to laugh and nod in agreement.

He waved Florence over to them and instructed the novice to join Catherine and to take care of her arm while waiting for the royal tent to be pitched.

Catherine, far too exhausted from the hardships of their ride, desisted pointing out to her husband that she was not a fragile plantlet, but an independent woman and the Queen of France. She simply lacked the energy for yet another confrontation. And if she was being honest to herself, his constant care may be annoying, but by now she believed that his concern was sincere. In addition, she did not want to risk the fragile ceasefire that prevailed between them since their last conversation.

So she swallowed her pride and let the novice lead her into the shade of an oak, where she sat down on the grass, leaning with her back against the tree trunk. She hungrily plucked a piece of bread and the cheese that Florence handed her and put them into her mouth.

Then she let the girl tamper with her arm and breathed out a sigh of relieve when Florence finally applied some of the pain-relieving ointment she had brought.

It wasn't long, before a soldier approached them to inform her that the royal tent was ready. Gratefully, the two women retired.

In the tent, Catherine dozed off on the uncomfortable cot for about an hour. When Henry arrived, she sleepily opened her eyes. With a mild smile on his lips, her husband kneeled down next to her and gently stroked a strand of hair out of her face.  
"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. There's a small stream a few hundred meters from here. Would you like to go there to freshen up or do you rather prefer I let someone bring you some water to wash up here?"  
The idea of being able to wash off the sweat and dirt of their journey immediately awakened her spirits.  
"I want to go there," she said and used the same calm and conciliatory tone that Henry had chosen.

Her husband mumbled his agreement and took off his vest.  
"That's fine with me. Then come on, let's go." Surprised that Henry himself intended to accompany her, she hesitantly accepted the hand he offered her. It was warm, calloused and incredibly strong.

Silently, the couple set out to the stream, taking a short but rocky trail that led them to a small lowering. All the while Henry didn't let go of her hand for even one second.  
Only when they arrived at the small stream, her husband released her fingers and to her surprise, he took not only his shirt off but also his boots. Then he jumped into the shallow water that splashed in all directions.  
At that moment Catherine could do nothing but stare at her husband in amazement, who waded through the cool water with almost childlike joy on his face while holding out his hands towards her.  
"Come on, Catherine," he tried to lure her in.

She hesitantly climbed onto one of the flat rocks and moved closer to the stream. Henry approached her with a broad grin on his handsome face. Whithout warning he grasped her waist and lifted her up, eliciting a startled cry from his wife's lips.  
"Henry, I'm still wearing my shoes," she screamed, helplessly latching onto his neck with her right arm.  
"Then I suggest you'd better take them off," was her husband's pragmatic answer while he tried to balance her weight on one arm and fished for her left shoe with the other. Clumsyly he took off her first, then her second shoe and threw them ashore. With greatest care Henry let Catherine slide down his arm until she was standing right in the middle of the creek.

Cool, crystal-clear water crept around her ankles and the hem of her dress was instantly soaked with water. Catherine hurried to lift up her skirts.  
"Isn't this great?" Her husband asked mischievously and Catherine wondered when she had last seen him in such a carefree and easy mood.

Quite obviously the time he spent in the nature and among his men, far away from French court, had a positive effect on his temper. Henry seemed more relaxed and at peace with himself than ever before. Besides he looked devilishly good in his leather pants. His muscular body, the dark beard that was greying here and there and the mischievous gleam in his eyes added to that impression.

Catherine cautiously turned in the ankle-high water and her eyes followed her husband to where he was wading. Henry stopped at a shoal that partly protruded out of the water. There he kneeled down and started to clean his face and upper body.

Once he stood up again, water was trickling down his broad chest. Mesmerized by that sight, Catherine watched a particularly large drop running down his flat stomach in hypnotic slowness until it disappeared below the waistband of Henry's trousers. A lump was building in her throat that prompted her to swallow hard. She had forgotten how attractive her husband was, how well defined his muscles and how wide his shoulders were.

But she also noticed the angry wound on his shoulder she had detected the night before and intended to ask Florence to take a look at it later on.

"What are you waiting for? I thought you wanted to freshen up?" Henry looked at her and Catherine wondered if he had noticed her staring.

Being at a loss she looked at the skirts she was still holding with her good hand to prevent them from getting even wetter. Then she once again looked at her husband, in whose eyes realization flared up. Wordlessly he waded back to her. Apparently he had just remembered her handicap.

Once again Henry picked her up as if she weighted nothing and carried her over to one of the larger rocks on the other side of the creek that reached slightly into the water. He gently let his wife down and offered her his hand for assistance when she got on her knees to wash her face. The cool water felt heavenly against her heated skin.  
When Catherine rose again, she felt that his gaze was still fixated on her, so she questioningly raised an eyebrow at him.

"I seem to have forgotten how much I enjoy just looking at you," Henry explained while shrugging his shoulders.  
"So, are you done with staring at me?" she asked in a voice dripping with irony.  
"No, I'll probably never be done with that. But I can continue later on." A big grin lay itself upon his face, a grin that made him look rather younger and incredibly mischievous.  
Catherine shook her head in a mildly dispraising way and set out to cautiously climb down the ledge.

"I could carry you..." Henry offered with an innocent expression on his face that set her nerve endings on alert.  
"You'd better do that, after all it's you who've carried me over here in the first place," she replied when she realized how difficult it was to find her footing on the uneven and slippery ground.  
"But it'll cost you." Henry's grin became even wider with this announcement.  
"What does it cost me?" Catherine asked full of suspicion while her husband slowly approached her with the elegance of a feline predator.  
"You'll find out once we've reached the other bank."

Before she could protest, Henry already grabbed her and lifted her into his arms.  
"And if I'm not willing to pay your price," she wanted to know and wondered if she was actually flirting with her husband.

He loosened his grip around her body for the fraction of a second so that she threatened to slip out of his arms and into the water, but then his grip tightened again.  
"Henry!" Catherine complained, but her husband just grinned at her provocatively.  
"Yes, my darling wife?"  
"Don't you dare letting me drop into that water," she threatened with as much authority in voice as she could muster.  
"It's your choice."  
"All right, out with it. What will it cost me?"  
"Nothing more than a kiss, Catherine."

The sparkle in his eyes reminded her of a young, still carefree Henry.  
In the earlier years of their marriage he hadn't missed any opportunity to steal her kisses. Some days he had even lain in wait in a hallway she had to pass in order to demand toll in form of lip services.

"That's your price? A kiss?" It irritated her that her husband wanted to play games of this kind with her all of a sudden. After all, she was his wife, not one of his many mistresses. But here, far away from court, far away from women like Diane or Kenna, she was his only alternative.  
"Exactly!"

Henry crossed the stream and climbed up the embankment with utmost caution, still holding his wife in his arms. Once he'd reached the pathway, he carefully let her down. His arms however didn't let go of her body just yet. She was sure that this was his way of reminding her of the fee she had to pay for his services.

Catherine sighed theatrically, then she resolutely grabbed his nape with her right hand and pulled his head down. More than willing and with a broad grin on his face, Henry allowed her to direct his face closer to her own. Once she could feel his hot breath against her lips, Henry grasped her chin and tenderly caressed her skin with his thumb.  
Resigning to her fate, the Queen of France reduced the distance between them until Henry felt her lips brush against his mouth. The anticipation of what was about to come seized his body with a slight tremor.

But instead of kissing him, Catherine withdrew herself from him, teasingly moving out of his reach, a coquettish smile on her face. When she approached him a second time, Henry pulled her into his arms without further ado and pressed his burning lips possessively against hers.  
It's been a long time since her husband had last kissed her the way he was kissing her now. Lovingly, with tender care and yet full of passion. A kiss that made her forget the here and now. It even made her forget the pain and throbbing in her arm that was constantly dominating her very being.  
She lived, breathed and existed for this kiss only.

When Henry reluctantly released her at some point, Catherine's heart was wildly beating against her chest and she felt lightheaded.  
A breathless "Oh my god!", slipped out of her mouth before she was able to call herself to order.

Encouraged by her words and her lack of resistance, Henry pulled her so close that not even a sheet would have fitted between their bodies. With a gentle yet possessive gesture Henry caressed her rear and kissed her a second time. This time their kiss lasted even longer and it's intensity made Catherine's knees go weak.

Sounds of levity that were coming for the upper end of the path made the couple jump apart. Above the creek Catherine spotted a handful of soldiers that were on their way down to the stream. Probably they also wanted to wash away the strenuousness of the day.  
"Let's head back," Henry said in a hoarse voice that resonated with pent-up passion. His Queen nodded in agreement but then she realized that they were both barefoot and Henry without his shirt.

"Our things," she reminded her husband, who hadn't even noticed that he wasn't wearing his shoes.  
"You wait here, I'll be right back." Henry instructed her, then he stole one last kiss and hurried down the embankment to collect their cloth.  
As soon as he returned, they quickly dressed and walked back to the camp, her right hand resting in his.


	11. Chapter 11

When Catherine and Henry returned to their camp site, dusk was already setting in. The sun that was slowly sinking towards the western hemisphere, dipped the peaks of the mountains into a luscious orange light and painted the small magellanic clouds in golden-redish colours. Fascinated by this natural spectacle, Catherine slowed down her pace until she came to a standstill, devoutly staring into the distance. Henry also stopped in awe.  
His attention however was not focused on the colourful sunset, but on the woman who's hand he was still holding.

He'd rarely seen Catherine dressed down the way she was just now. Not overhung with precious jewelry she tented to wear as a symbol of her status and to underline the wealth of the family she was born into. And without the crown he had given her. A crown she had learned to wear full of pride with her head held high.  
Without these things to hide behind, she was looking much more approachable and so much softer. He would even dare to say that she looked vulnerable in a wonderful and unusual kind of way.

And the emerald green dress, that lacked the usual luxuriance of her wardrobe, granted Catherine a naturalness that captivated Henry.  
And her hair! Out here she wore her hair in a wilder, untended kind of style, unlike at court where it was always primped to perfection. Now it was merely held together by a small ribbon and it wasn't the first time that Henry caught himself staring at it, wishing to reach out and bury his fingers into the soft strands.

Then there were the countless freckles that had conquered her face and décolleté. He knew that with her fair skin Catherine tended to get freckles in the summer months but normally she used to hide them under a thick layer of makeup. But here, out in the fresh air and under the warm sun of June, these adorable little caprices of nature had happily spread all over her skin and Henry loved each and every one of them.

"Isn't it just breathtaking?" Catherine asked him quietly. Henry nodded, absorbed in his private admiration.  
"Gorgeous," he thought aloud. But unlike his wife, it wasn't the sunset that had awe-strucked him, but the small force of human nature standing right next to him.

Enchanted by his wife's beauty and the phantasmagoric scenery, Henry spontaneously stepped behind Catherine and wrapped his arms around her petite form. Then he buried his nose into her hair and absorbed her familiar odour. Surprised by his action, Catherine stiffened at first but Henry simply kept on holding her. He merely started stroking her middle in a soothing gesture, hoping that if he just gave her enough time to get used to his closeness, she would relax her body and lean into his embrace.

And indeed, a little later he felt how her tense muscles started to relax. In the end one careful pull was enough to minimize the remaining distance between them and for her to press her back firmly against his chest.  
"I have completely forgotten how beautiful this can be – being outside, away from... well, you know..." Catherine whispered after what felt like half an eternity where the two of them had silently watched the sun sink between two mountains. Now darkness had finally buried the last relics of daylight under its heavy cloak.  
Above them was an endless sea of stars.

"I remember feeling the exact same way after I've decided to join my troops. The first few nights out here opened my eyes. Life is good, Catherine. Life away from court and all those obligations coming along with being a King. Here you are allowed to catch a glimpse of a completely different world. A world that made me question my priorities."  
"And did you come to a decision?" Catherine asked him quietly.  
"As a matter of fact, I did." Henry replied and brushed her hair aside to place a tender kiss at the nape of her neck. "I've come to appreciate nature again and that a night out here is more valuable than the most spectacular ball."

There were still so many revelations that threatened to burst out of his mouth, but Henry wasn't able to put them into a reasonable order.  
"What about England?" Catherine beat him to it.  
"Forget about England!" With a wave of his hand Henry brushed away her question. "France is what is important. England was nothing but a missent obsession, a fantasy the prevailing madness at court had planted into my head. You, Catherine are important. You and our children, who probably don't even remember what their parents look like by now."

His words prompted Catherine to free herself from his grip and turn around to face him.  
"And Francis? He is the true heir. France's future king and OUR son, Henry! But you have simply repaced him with your bastard and you..." Before his wife could continue talking herself into a rage, Henry gently placed his index finger over her lips.  
"Who do you think is ruling France right now?" He asked and in a feathery touch he ran his finger over Catherine's cheekbone.  
Even though he could only see the contour of her body in the darkness, he knew her well enough to suspect that she had probably raised an eyebrow by now while staring at him questioningly.  
"Francis. Together with his wife," Henry answered his own question since she chose to remain silent.  
"His wife?" Catherine's voice was two octaves highter than unusual.

"Mary. You remember her, the Queen of Scots, the girl our son was engaged to since he was a little boy?" Henry knew damn well that teasing a woman like Catherine de Medici wasn't necessarily the best idea, but at the moment he just couldn't resist doing it nonetheless. His teasing promptly earned him an unexpected hard blow against his upper arm.  
"Don't you dare fooling me," she scolded him and, contrary to his expectations, he couldn't hear a hint of bitter reproach in her voice as so often, but a suppressed laughter.

"I would never dare. Forgive me, Chérie." Without further reflection, Henry bent down and placed an affectionate kiss on Catherine's lips.  
"Don't try to distract me, Henry," she admonished him and gently freed herself to take a step back.  
"This isn't some lame diversionary tactic. Actually, it's the only thing I can think of right now," Henry defended his desire to kiss her.  
"You have to think about Mary all the time?" Catherine couldn't hide her amazement.  
"Nonsense. I'm thinking about kissing you. And where I want to kiss you. I have some very vivid..."  
"HENRY!" Catherine reached for his hand and pressed his fingers. Hard. "What were you saying about Francis and Mary?"  
"Oh yes. They got married. About four weeks after your flight."

"Oh my God! But the prophecy! Henry, Mary will cause our son's..." Henry interrupted his wife once again by taking her hand.  
"Catherine! Please, are you actually telling me that a silly prophecy should determine the fate of the future King of France? Our actions determine our future, WE determine our future. And Francis and Mary have chosen each other. They are happy, Catherine."  
"How could the two of you let this happen? Mary believed me. She believed in the prophecy," Catherine snorted and Henry wondered if she had overheard his last words or if she just deliberately ignored them.  
"Things have changed. So did your damn prophecy," he explained, hoping that this information would calm her down.

"The prophecy has changed?" Catherine's voice resonated with the renowned authority she usually used while addressing her seer or her servants. Considering her upset constitution, Henry generously condoned her tone.  
"That's all you care about? This damned prophecy? How about our son marrying the girl he loves? They are happy."  
"Nothing is more important than my children's happiness! But for them to be happy, they have to be alive, Henry. So how did the prophecy change? What did Nostradamus see? I need to know the exact wording."  
"Oh for heaven's sake, how should I know the exact wording? He just said that the things he saw have changed. Something about two queens and that the decision of one of them changed everyone elses fate."  
He loathed repeating her quack's words, but he knew that she wouldn't leave this topic alone until she had dragged everything out of him she thought was relevant.

"Those were his words? What else did he say?"  
"Oh hell, he also mentioned a snake whose poison paralyzes a queen, saves a king and thus reunites France and Italy. Which is complete nonsense, since the war between France and Italy has been over for almost a year." Henry didn't bother hiding his aversion to the supposed visionary power of his wife's seer.  
"But what about Francis?"  
"Nothing is wrong with Francis. He is alright. Whatever vision Nostradamus saw before, it won't happen."  
"That's what he has said? That Francis will be alright?" The relief that was clearly audible in Catherine's words swashed over to him like a wave and although he considered the hocus-pocus her seer normally did as ridiculous, his wife's relief about this new development touched his heart nevertheless.

Without further ado Henry pulled Catherine into his arms and held her tightly.  
"He is fine, darling. He's just fine," he muttered again and again while her shoulders began to tremble slightly and he felt her heart beating wildly against his own.  
"Everything will be fine." Henry promised and at this very moment he believed in his words for he wanted them to be true.

After some time, Henry didn't know how long they had been standing like this, he slowly bent down and kissed Catherine's forehead, then he raised his hand to stroke her cheek.  
"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry now," he said quietly and exhaled with relief when he felt her nod against his chest. "Then come on."

Like before, Henry reached for her hand, not willing to give up the reclaimed physical connection between them. And Catherine's lack of resistance encouraged him. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of his stubborn wife's willingness to cooperate. She usually kept him at arm's lenght and they hadn't exchanged tendernesses of any kind for ages.

But Catherine's flight and as a result her injury had shaken the deadlocked habits that had determined their marriage for the last two decades to the core. His indifference had given way to care and the growing attraction between them would sooner or later lead to a reconciliation between the sheets.  
At least that's what he hoped for.

Back at their tent, Henry ordered one of the varlets to go and get them their food from the fireplace. Then he pushed the tarpaulin aside to let his wife enter first.  
Florence, sitting on the ground and stirring a brownish, bitter-smelling broth, wiped her hands off in embarrassment and rose to greet the royal couple. With her right hand Catherine stroked the girl's shoulder in an affectionate gesture and peered into the malodorous basin.  
"You returned at the right time, your herbal pack is just about ready. It will give you some relief," the girl hurried to explained with a cheerful voice and an open smile on her oval face.  
"You're a godsend," Catherine replied warmly.

At that moment the young varlet returned, carrying two steaming bowls. The sight and the delicious smell of the stew made their mouths water simultaneously. Only now did the two of them realize how hungry they were. In Catherine's case even hungrier than she had ever felt since leaving French court.  
"I think this can wait till after supper," Henry informed Florence and gently guided his wife over to the narrow cot. She sat down willingly and accepted the bowl the soldier handed her. With a sigh Henry dropped down beside her.  
Lost in consensual silence, the couple had their dinner.

When they've finished, Florence started taking care of her mistresses injury. Therefore Catherine had to take off her dress since the sleeve wouldn't go up enough to treat her arm properly. Henry briefly considered giving his wife some privacy by leaving the tent, but then he reconsidered.  
If he had his way, they would soon be doing much more intimate things than just watching each other undress. And the sooner she began to feel comfortable in his presence, the sooner she would be ready to give herself to him.

The novice didn't dare expelling the King of France from his own tent and although Catherine gave him a fathomless glare over her shoulder, she tolerated his presence while Florence carefully helped her undress. A simple, sleeveless undergarment came to light once the nun had freed her from her dress that accentuated the daintiness of her slim body.  
Without resistance Catherine let herself be led back to the cot, where she took a seat in front of the kneeling novice. Then the girl reached for her arm and began to carefully apply the herbal paste onto the scar tissue.

Henry slowly stepped behind his wife and laid his hands on her shoulders. She involuntarily stiffened under his touch. But he refused to become discouraged by Catherine's reaction and with gentle pressure he started massaging her tense muscles. And like this afternoon when they had shared his horse, her body finally gave up its defensive posture and Henry could feel her loosen up under his hands.

Then the girl carefully bandaged Catherine's arm and rose from her kneeling position once she'd finished. Catherine reached for her with her good arm.  
"Thank you, Florence. If you don't mind, I also want you to take a look at Henry's wound. It seems infected."  
"What?" Henry asked in irritation, since he hadn't expected this turn of events.  
The girl nodded in agreement and indecisively looked between her mistress and her husband.  
"Your shirt, Henry," Catherine demanded with unfaltering authority in her voice.

Henry regarded his wife with a smug smile.  
"So you want me to get undressed?" he asked and couldn't resist the urge to tease her. Catherine slowly rose and turned to him. Disapproval was written all over her pretty face, causing Henry to grin even wider and to conspiratorially wiggle his eyebrows. His reaction prompted Catherine to roll her eyes and the nun to blush with embarrassment.  
"I want you to get treated. But if you prefer a sepsis... fine, don't let me stop you." Catherine snorted in her very own, slightly arrogant way and Henry couldn't help but find her more attractive than ever as her royal composure didn't accord with her scantily clad and very natural appearance.  
Added to this her concern for his well-being moved him.

"My lovely wife, your concern touches me." Even if his voice bared a hint of scorn, he spoke the truth none the less.  
"Fine, if this is of such importance for you..." The shirt he was already pulling over his head swallowed parts of his words.  
Henry carelessly dropped the garment, stepped around the cot and planted himself in front of the novice, an impatient expression on his face. His gaze, however, was still fixed on his wife.  
"You're right, it's infected," Florence agreed with Catherine after examining the wound. "But do not worry, your majesty, this is nothing we can't fix."

The girl let her eyes wander through the tent and discovered the tincture she had given him in the morning. It appeared to be unused. Both women acknowledged his negligence with a sigh.  
"Sit down," his wife instructed him, since Henry made no effort to make it easier for the girl. When he didn't react promptly, Catherine forcefully pressed him down.

Surrendering to his fate, Henry endured Florence's treatment stoically. But it wasn't the novice or her work that captured his full attention but his wife or rather her breasts, that were currently at his eye level since Catherine was standing and he was sitting. Gentle candlelight illuminated the outline of her body under the thin fabric of her nightgown. Henry had to raise all his self-control in order to resist the urge to run his fingers all over her breasts until her tender nipples hardened under his touch.

Only a strong burning sensation that inflamed his chest while Florence applied the tincture onto his wound pulled Henry out of his libidinal thoughts and prevented his body from overly reacting to the optical stimuli his wife sparked.  
"You should try to take it easy for the next few days," Florence advised him after she had bandaged him up to protect the wound from contaminant.

Henry only gave off a throaty growl and rose again. It wasn't until he noticed his wife's assertive gaze that prompted him to thank the girl for her services.  
"Thank you. That would be all for today. You may leave now." With these words he dismissed her.

"No, you're not, Florence, you will stay here", his wife objected and turned to him only to whisper in a quieter voice: "You can't seriously send her out there to all your soldiers. She is a nun, almost still a child and besides me the only woman in this camp."  
"Catherine," Henry growled, loathing the idea of anyone underminining his authority. But to his surprise his wife put her hand on the uninjured side of his chest and looked him deeply into his eyes.  
"She saved my life and now we are responsible for her. I will not allow..." Henry interrupted Catherine by kissing her all of a sudden. When his lips released hers again, she was only able to stare at him bewildered.  
"If it makes you feel better, she can stay," he finally agreed but at the same moment Henry decided to not only ask for an appropriate wardrobe for his wife once they've reached Lord Bernardes estate, but also for a small tent to accommodate the girl. For he had no intention of sharing quarters with a nun for the rest of their trip.

"Florence, you can sleep over there," Catherine explained with a tentative smile and went over to the water bowl to wash her face and clean her teeth with the scarce means at her disposal. At the other end of the tent, Henry took his boot off and stepped up to her to ready himself for bed.

Once finished he put an arm around his wife's waist to escort her back to their shared cot. He signaled her to sit down and wait for him while he extinguished the candles. After some consideration, the King lay down the same way he had last night and pulled his wife into his arms. This time she did not resist. He even thought he felt her snuggling up on him. Smiling, Henry spread the fur over their bodies and placed a tender good-night kiss on her lips.

"Henry," Catherine warned him a few minutes later when his hands slid down her back towards her behind, where he started to knead her flesh with gentle pressure.  
"We're not alone," she reminded him quietly. Her words made him pause for a second. He was not surprised that Catherine had stopped him. What surprised him, however, was the fact that she still seemed relaxed and he wondered if the presence of the nun was actually the only reason for her to stop him.  
"Then you'd better be quiet, my dear," he whispered conspiratorially and continued with his caresses to test her limits.

"Ouch, damn it," Henry growled a second later when two fingers of her healthy hand closed around his nipple like a vice and pulled at it all of a sudden.  
"I have warned you," Catherine whispered and the pressure around his nipple only eased when his fingers stopped stroking her bottom.

Henry's hands remained motionless on her backside, just like her hand remained on his chest. The both of them just lurked in anticipation, waiting to see how the other would act now.  
The King of France briefly considered letting go of his wife, but then he realise that contrary to his caresses, she tolerated his mere touch, so Henry decided to leave his hands where they were. Motionless.  
Catherine didn't change her position either and all of a sudden he felt her fingers stroke his naked skin briefly as if to test its texture.  
"Good night, husband," she mumbled sleepily and her breath tickled the sensitive skin of his neck.  
"Good night, Catherine," he replied and in response to her touch, Henry stroked her derrière with the tip of his fingers in a similarly brief and feathery touch.

To his surprise she didn't push his hand away nor tried to free herself. He rather heard a suppressed laugh. Then she pressed her body even more firmly against his own to find the most comfortable position.  
Henry just lay there motionless and enjoyed the closeness she was willing to grant him. And while he lay there quietly, Catherine's breathing gradually slowed down and Henry felt her gliding into Morpheus' arms.

He, on the other hand, lay awake for a long time that night.


	12. Chapter 12

A feeling of security enveloped Catherine the moment she slowly surfaced from the land of nod. A feeling caused by Henry's strong arms that were holding her tightly and pressing her against his muscular body.  
With her eyes stilled closed, she cuddled up against her husband, who promptly started stroking her cheek.  
"Good morning, Catherine."  
"Mhm..." She was only capable of answering with a sleepy hum and her reaction prompted Henry to chuckle in amusement.  
"I see, some things never change," he whispered, alluding to the fact that she basically needed several minutes to come to her senses in the morning.  
Especially now, when her weakened condition demanded more of her than usual. 

Although Catherine still felt dull from sleep, his closeness immediately put her body on alert. Henry's presence was pervasive. Over the past days, he hadn't left her side. She didn't understand his motivations for one moment he had commanded her around and the next he had been highly concerned about her well-being.  
And he had kissed her. Several times at that and in the most intimate way. But what surprised her most was the fact that she had permitted it without resistance, at least initially. 

Once again his closeness threatened to deprive her of sanity and reason. It clouded her otherwise razor-sharp mind.  
She urgently needed to put some distance between them in order to think more clearly.

"I will ride my own horse today," Catherine informed her husband therefore and she let her hand glide over his naked chest as if to appease him. "I need to."  
She deliberately ignored the theatrical sigh that came over her husband's lips upon hearing this.  
"Alright, you may start on your own. But as soon as I notice your arm or anything else bothering you, you will ride with me."  
Henry seemed determined and by his tone she realized that a discussion was useless at this point. So she stroked his bearded cheek and resigned to her fate. At least she had this little triumph to register.

Her silent consent prompted Henry to bend down and kiss her tenderly.  
"I know that you are the most independent woman I have ever met and that you hate it when someone else tells you what to do. But I am worried and I do not want your Medici pride to do you further harm."  
Henry slightly rose from the cot to look at her.  
"I certainly don't want to harass you or compromise you in front of my soldiers, Catherine."  
In his eyes she recognized sincere affection and when Henry kissed her once again, she melted into his arms helplessly.  
Only when she feared that she was going to lose her mind altogether, did her king release her. 

"If you don't want me to finish what we've started here and now, I suggest you..." Henry stopped speaking while his hands started gliding all over Catherine's body. A sensation that brought her back to her senses.  
"Henry," she whispered and didn't even know if she was asking him to stop or to keep on caressing her.

Loud yelling that was followed by some rumbling noise could be heard from outside and caused the couple to jump apart.  
"I think I'd better go and check what they are up to," her husband grumbled and stole one last kiss before rising. "I'll see you later, sweetheart."  
Catherine sat up on the cot and silently watched Henry getting dressed. Then he put on his boots and left their tent.

When he was gone, the Queen of France let herself fall back onto the hard flatbed, sighing heavily.  
"What am I doing here?" Catherine mumbled in confusion and gently touched her lips with her forefinger. Lips her husband had just kissed mere minutes ago.

All this, his closeness, his consideration, not least his uncharacteristic leniency concerning her person confused her.  
At the time of her flight Henry had been hell-bent on getting rid of her and now, only a few days after he had found her – badly bruised and devitalised -, she impended to suffocate under his well-intentioned care. 

Because allthough he left no doubt that he desired her nowadays, she couldn't imagine that this was the main reason for Henry's changed behaviour. For legally he had every imaginable right to her and her body. If he wanted to bed her he was perfectly entitle to do so, with or without her consent.  
Therefore his lack of just claiming what was his made it all the more astonishing. If she wasn't mistaken, Henry was acutually trying to seduce her. 

What Catherine didn't know was whether she wanted to be seduced by him or not?  
Could she dare giving herself to him – allowing passion to claim her once again? Could she risk chasing the illusion of a happy married life whose constancy was nothing short of a bubble's iridescently outer wall?  
Could she forget all disappointment, all heartaches Henry had caused her over the years?  
And what future lay ahead of them? 

Their tent, the camp site, all this was like a little world of its own, isolated from court and far away from obligations and intrigues that reigned there. Far away from women like Diane and girls like Kenna. 

But what would happen once they left their little bubble world?  
How much would it take for Henry to drop her just as fast and carelessly as he did it so many times before?

XXX

Half an hour later Henry helped her on the white horse and he actually refrained from interfering the whole morning, even though his constant glances at her direction unsettled Catherine to an increasing degree. 

When the sun reached its zenith, Henry let his soldiers stop for a short halt to water the horses.  
As the day before, he simply lifted her from the saddle without warning. Once her feet touched the ground, her husband didn't release her but bent down instead.  
"How are you doing?" In his eyes lay an entreaty she had rarely seen there in the past. As if begging her to give him an honest answer.  
"I'm okay, Henry. A little exhausted, but okay." 

Not quite the truth but neither a direct lie.  
Because compared to the previous days and weeks, she was actually feeling okay, even though her arm had started throbing severely two hours ago. But her body was already used to this kind of pain so it was bearable.  
"Catherine", Henry growled close to her ear.  
"Don't look at me like that. Florence will tend to my arm and I'll be as good as new."  
"At least you are as stubborn as ever," Henry attested her and stroked her cheek with a surprisingly tender gesture. "Get some rest," he told her and reached for the reins of their horses to lead them away. 

"After our rest, you'll ride with me," Henry informed her casually before he disappeared from her sight to mingle with his soldiers.  
The determination in his voice and his departure left no room for discussion, so Catherine decided not to waste energy by fighting the inevitable.  
If Henry wanted her to ride with him on his horse, she would do so whether she liked it or not. That much was clear. 

Once they've eaten and Florence had taken care of her arm, Henry gave order to get ready to leave. Without effort he lifted his wife onto his stallion and got on the horse right behind her. This time Catherine did not resist, she rather accepted her fate. Her fate as well as Henry's hands, that clasped her middle a second later to pull her even closer until he was holding her in a rather intimate way. 

"Why the hurry?" Catherine asked a few hours later after Henry and his soldiers had almost pushed their horses to the point of exhaustion with their murderous pace.  
"I've promised you a comfortable bed tonight," Henry said matter of factly.  
"A bed we'll never reach if we break our necks in this rampant area." With a worried expression Catherine looked down into the abyss at their left side, then at the rocky path they were following for half an hour now. They had to bypass massive boulders and slippery debris whereof loose stones were tumbling down beneath their horses hoofs.  
On the one hand she was glad that she didn't have to lead a horse along this steep and narrow pass herself, on the other hand she would be able to slow down this murderous speed otherwise. 

"How much farther do we have to go until we reach Lord Bernard's lands?"  
"Just a few more miles after we have passed this rise."  
Upon hearing this, Catherine's gaze glided along the rocky path that disappeared behind a massive ledge 500 meters ahead of them.  
"Then do us all a favor and slow down, Henry. I would prefer to get there alive".  
"How I've missed that during the last couple of months," Henry said and to her relief he actually slowed down his horse.  
"What?" Catherine asked in confusion.  
She would have prefered to turn to him to get a better look at her husband, but she was afraid to cause the horse to loose its footing by unnecessarily shifting her weight. 

"You and your ability to save me from foolishness."  
"You hate it when I give you advice," she reminded him, slightly surprised by this revelation.  
"Only because you're right most of the times."  
"I am, aren't I?" she agreed, not without a hint of arrogant pride in her voice. Her answer made Henry laugh out loud.  
"Indeed. Maybe I should finally start listening to you."  
"That would be a good choise for a change." 

The loose banter between them gave Catherine a sense of normality, something she hadn't felt since the moment she took flight. It allowed her not only to forget her concern for the future, but also the throbbing pain in her arm that was nowadays dominating her very being. 

Once the troop had finally passed the ridge, Catherine spotted a small village in the adjoining valley. An impressive castle behind the village overlooked the rather smalish buildings. The sight of their harbourage for the night lifted her spirits even more. Apparently the soldiers felt the same way, they probably already saw a proper meal with a beer jug or a pretty girl in their mind's eyes. Catherine herself longed for a hot bath.  
"Almost there," Henry whispered into her ear and his beard tickled the sensitive skin on her neck.  
Now that their path was wider and less dangerous, he drove his horse into canter one last time. 

A messenger had announced their pending arrival, so when they reached the castle, Lord Bernard and his family were already awaiting them in the courtyard.  
"Your majesty, it's such an honour to accommodate you. We have prepared the most beautiful room for you and your...", the stocky man cleared his throat, then he looked at Catherine indecisivly, who was just being lifted off the horse by Henry. Obviously he couldn't quite place his king's female companion.  
"Thank you, my wife and I for sure appreciate your efforts," Henry explained with a mischievous smile and generously overlooked the older man's faux pas, who nervously bowed to Catherine at this announcement.  
"Pardon me, my Queen."

"It's all right, Lord Bernard," Catherine reassured the older man and she was more than aware of the curious looks those present were throwing her way. She could only imagine how her dishevelled appearance had to come across to others, certainly far from majestic if she was mistaken for one of Henry's mistresses rather than the Queen of France.  
"We will prepare a second bedchamber for you this instant, your Grace."  
"That won't be necessary, my friend. Her Grace will stay with me. But I am certain you can please her with a hot bath and a clean gown. And I would fancy a glass of your best wine." Henry patted the old man's shoulder and winked at his wife mischievously. 

Catherine could do nothing but stare at her husband in bewilderment.  
"But of course. My wife Mathilde will take care of it," Lord Bernard hurried to assure, and the small corpulent woman at his side nodded deliberately and reached for Catherine's right arm to lead her inside the castle. 

"Follow me, your Majesty. I heard that you've been on the road for quite some time already. I'm sure a nice hot bath will do you good. Are you hungry? It will be a while until dinner is ready, but I can have them bring you a little something." Mathilde was eagerly chattering and led Catherine through the great hall. Her round face shone with joy and her cheeks turned red due to her growing excitement.  
"Forgive me, I talk and talk and you are most likely exhausted. You have to forgive an old woman, but it's not every day that the Queen and King of France honour us with a visit. Would you like some cake?"

"Do not worry, I would like to thank you for your hospitality, Lady Bernard," Catherine assured her and followed her overzealous hostess to the upper floor.  
They crossed a corridor, then the other woman opened the door to a bedchamber that had been arranged for its royal visitor.  
The scent of fresh roses filled the air and a huge bed occupied the left side of the room. It was well-furnished and flooded with light. The curtains and and the sitting area were of royal blue coloring.  
"I hope this room is to your liking. If we had known that you would accompany your husband..." Catherine stopped the woman by placing her right hand on the woman's arm.  
"This room is beautiful and it will be quite sufficient."

Lady Bernard nodded in relief and entered the adjoining room where maids were busily preparing Catherine's bath.  
"Just a few more minutes, your Grace." Mathilde assured her. "Do you require help with your bath? One of the girls can stay to assist you or I could call for my youngest daughter."  
"Thank you, but this is not necessary. A young novice accompanied us. Would you send for her? And some cake sounds very appealing, Mathilde." Catherine gave her hostess a warm smile.  
"Of course, your Majesty, I'll send for that cake immediately. And for your novice. Oh, and a gown of course. I'm sure my daughter's clothes should fit you." Lady Bernard promised and she hurriedly left the room to meet her obligations as the royal couples host.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When Henry clapped eyes on Catherine in the great hall where their hosts were serving an opulent dinner, the sight of her left him speechless. His wife was wearing a burgundy dress that emphasized her petite form in the most exquisit way. The sleeves were made of lace and covered the scars on her left arm. And unlike her usual wardrobe, this dress had an exciting, almost daring neckline.

Like the previous days, Catherine had forgone wearing make-up and therefore countless freckles adorned her face. Seeing her like this aroused Henry's desire to kiss every single one of them. Especially the ones on her décolleté and those hidden beneath the bodice's lace bordure.

To his secret disappointment, his wife was wearing her honey colored hair pinned up this evening. A familiar sight and yet Henry longed for the moment he would be able to undo all these barrettes and clips.  
"You look beautiful tonight," Henry whispered into her ear and the blush on her cheeks and her surprised reaction made him realize how rarely he must have complimented her in the past. He intended to change this neglect in the future and gallantly offered his left arm to his wife.

With her left brow raised, Catherine looked up at him, but then she accepted his arm without comment but with the tiniest of smiles on her lips and traversed the hall at his side to the plentifully laid banquet table. During dinner, Henry paid special attention to her every wish and assisted her in every conceivable way that was necessary to hide her handicap from their hosts. Not only once did he feel her indecisive gaze come to rest on him and eventually she gave in to his care.  
Henry acknowledged her unexpected giving in with a grateful smile.  
The atmosphere at dinner was informal and relaxed. Their hosts were cordial, communicative people who were more than willing to provide the major part of their conversation, which bothered neither Catherine, nor Henry. So Henry allowed Lord Bernard to press him for a glass of whiskey after they've finished their dinner.

Thirty minutes later, Henry observed through the half opened door how Catherine was trying to suppress a yawn, so he thanked Lord Bernard for his hospitality and returned to the dining room to drag his wife away from her talkative hostess.  
"Lady Bernard, I'm afraid I have to alienate my wife from you. It has been a long day and after this excellent meal it's finally time to turn in. I bid you good night".

The glance Catherine gave him thereupon seemed almost relieved and she hurried to wish the full figured lady goodnight in turn. Shortly thereafter Henry escorted his wife up the stairs.

The King opened the door to their chamber and let her go first. Florence, the young novice, who had patiently waited for Catherines return, literally jumped out of her chair, but Henry stopped the girl who was already hurrying towards her Queen.  
"Florence, you didn't have to wait. Go to bed, girl. I will assist my wife," he told her in his friendliest voice since he was eager to get her out of the room the quickest possible way.

The girl nodded, clearly intimidated by his order, but she still looked at his wife for affirmation.  
"It's alright, go to bed, my dear child," Catherine dismissed the novice. Once the young woman had left the room, Catherine turned around and gazed at him sceptically.  
"All the care, this unusual consideration and the way you treat me... don't get me wrong, Henry, I really appreciate it. Yet I can't help but wonder, are you doing this only because you want to have sex with me?" The directness of her words dumbfounded the King of France for a second.  
But Catherine hadn't finished yet.  
"You don't have to flatter me in order to get what you're perfectly entitled to anyway."

Henry took a few steps towards his wife. Once he was standing in front of her, he raised his hand to stroke Catherine's cheek with his index finger.  
"No, sweetheart, you're quite mistaken. But there's one thing you're right about. I do desire you and yes, I want to sleep with you. It's been far too long since I've lain with a woman - with my wife. But Catherine, when or even if we are ever going to share a bed as husband and wife, we won't be having sex - we will make love."  
Henry tried to win her over by putting all his power of persuasion into his words.  
"What difference does it make?" Catherine asked him matter of factly and Henry gently clasped her chin with two of his fingers to direct her head up to look at him.  
"A great difference," he replied and kissed her with as much devotion and tenderness as he could muster. He didn't want Catherine to assume that she was merely a means to an end.

He wanted her, desired her with an intensity that made his head spin when thinking too much about it. Everything in him urged him to make her his again, to re-claim his beautiful wife. And this time he would hold her dear and never let her go again.

Losing Catherine had opened his eyes. And he admittedly loved himself in the new role that now fell upon him thanks to her injury. Even more he loved the fact that for the first time since they were married, his wife was allowing him to take care of her. Maybe being needed was what he had missed in all these years?  
The feeling of being able to be there for her, regardless of her independence and her strength. Because during the long years at his side, Catherine had learned only to depend on herself. She didn't need anyone in her life, most certainly not him, her husband.

But he wanted to be needed by her.  
He wanted to be the one person she could always confide in during her darkest hours, just as he wanted to trust her unconditionally.  
He wanted to be her hero in shining armor, the man who got her the moon and the stars and in whose arms she could always find strength and security in case she ever needed it.  
He wanted to make sweet love to her every night, count the freckles on her body and make up for all the years they had lost out of false pride, hurt feelings and selfishness.

When Henry released Catherine after what felt like an eternity, they were both out of breath. Henry's pulse was racing and his whole body vibrated in anticipation.  
"Henry, I don't know what to say. I am your wife and..."  
"That's true, you ARE my wife and I want us to live together as husband and wife, Catherine," he told her in dead earnest.  
"That's what you say here and now, away from..." Henry interrupted her again by placing one of his fingers against her lips.  
"I need you in my life," he stated with desperate courage and took a few steps to slowly guide Catherine towards the middle of the room. "Let me show you how much, sweetheart."

He kissed her again and though she initially reacted with passivity, it didn't take long before she started returning his kiss. A kiss that was getting more and more intense. Driven by the feelings that reigned over him, Henry let his hands wander to the base of her breasts. His touch caused a slight tremor to run over his wife's body, which he interpreted as a good sign.

So he intensified his efforts and caressed her tender skin first with his fingers, then with his lips. When his tongue glided over the gentle curve of her cleavage, Catherine couldn't suppress a quiet moan.  
A broad and self-satisfied grin appeared on his lips. Mischievously Henry looked up at his wife, who was wordlessly staring at him, caught in a state between entrancement and unwillingness.

To reduce her remaining doubts to nothing, Henry freed her right breast from the bodice and took the pink nipple into his mouth to suck on it eagerly. The moaning that escaped Catherine's throat was deep and sensual and made his blood shoot into his lower body region.  
With his teeth he teasing nibbled at her nipple and let his hands wander to his wifes back to open her dress. After three unsuccessful attempts he released her breast in frustration to turn Catherine around. Then he kissed her neck in an apologetic gesture and set about loosening the tight lacing.

Her dress finally glided to the floor with a soft rustling noise, Henry looked at his wife dignified. Catherine was standing before him, wearing nothing but a flimsy chemise made of finest silk. With a smile on his face he embraced her petite figure from behind and pulled her into his arms. His erection gently poked Catherine's shapely behind.

Henry let his left hand wander to her breasts while his other hand fumbled with the numerous clips that were holding her hair together. A few seconds later her gentle curls cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall.  
"So beautiful," he whispered into his wife's ear and turned her in his arms to look deep into her eyes. The golden embers he saw in her gaze gave him hope. With the necessary patience and finesse he would hopefully be able to ignite new flames of passion, which would turn into a bonfire of love.

When he kissed Catherine this time, she didn't hesitate but instantaneously opened her lips to invite his eager tongue in. More than happy, Henry took possession of what she was willing to give him and step by step he urged his wife towards the bed.  
When her knee pit hit the frame, Henry kept on pushing Catherine backwards with tender force and by doing so he send them both down on the mattress.  
"Now would be your chance to stop me in case you don't want me to..." Henry couldn't finish his sentence for Catherine forcefully pulled him down by the collar of his shirt for her part to mute him with a kiss.

"Enough talking, husband. You wanted to show me how much you need me," she breathed against his lips, whereupon Henry reached for her right hand and guided it towards his crotch area.  
"Is this proof enough?" he asked her and opened the leather lacing of his trousers.  
When he felt Catherine's hand slipping into his pants, Henry closed his eyes in voluptuousness as soon as her delicate fingers pusillanimously glided over his manhood.

He threatened to get lost in the sensation of her touch but then he remembered his actual mission. He wanted to make love with Catherine, win her back with tenderness and generosity and not by giving her the feeling that he only wanted her because she was the only woman available.  
So he gently closed his fingers around her wrist and took her hand from his pulsating penis. Instead he lovingly kissed Catherine and let his hands glide over her body instead.

Finally his desire became unbearable, so he freed first his wife, then his own body from their remaining clothes until they ended up laying completely naked in front of each other.  
He devotedly stroked, kissed and caressed her skin and took all time in the world to elicit the kind of moaning from her throat that clouded his senses with naked desire. Her body was a sensual instrument, one that only he could play.  
Usually it was him who was taken care of in bed by his countless mistresses in every possible way, but now and here with Catherine he felt as if the true meaning of his very existence was merely to give her pleasure. A feeling whose intensity frightened him.

Was this love? Real, true love? Had he actually fallen in love with his own wife once again?

"Now, Henry," she urged him and her words shot right through him as if electrified. The anticipation nearly killed him. And who was he not to obey to her request?  
So he placed himself between her slightly spread thighs and finally re-claimed the woman he had missed for so many months.  
Catherine's soft body felt extremely good beneath his own. Dainty and hot. Her wet and incredibly tight center clasped his penis and a hoarse groan escaped his lips.  
Once he had fully penetrated her, Henry paused briefly and looked down at Catherine.

Her chest raised and lowered at a breathless pace and her face seemed tense.  
"Are you okay, mon petit coeur?" he asked anxiously, whereupon Catherine raised her uninjured arm to stroke his cheek.  
"Yes, just give me a second," she asked him with a strained voice. He nodded and kissed her affectionately. Henry would have given her all the time in the world, but after a minute he felt Catherine noticeably relax under him.  
"Okay," she whispered, giving her husband permission to finally move.  
First at a slow and deliberate pace, then Henry took up speed and penetrated her much faster and deeper.

He loved the feeling her sweet body sparked within his own, loved how she began to squirm beneath him and how she reared up towards him with fervour. His lips sought hers again in order to kiss her with the same passion he made love with her.

Time and again he increased the speed of his thrusts until one of them came to the verge of an orgasm, only to slow down to a moderate rhythm that multiplied their sweet agony.  
Then he stopped his movements altogether. Henry grabbed his wife by the waist and rolled himself over with her so that they came to rest laying face to face next to each other on the mattress. His penis had slipped out of her body during this unexpected movement. So Henry reached for Catherine's thigh and pushed it up towards his hip.

This position left her sex fully exposed and Henry slid two of his fingers between her legs to stroke her in the most intimate way before penetrating her again.  
Now that his arms no longer had to prop his upper body, he let his hand linger between her thighs and stimulated the little pink button there until it began to swell and Catherine started to twitch under his caresses. With her eyes closed, Catherine threw her head back in pleasure and let herself be washed away by a wave of purest delight.  
Was there ever a more beautiful sight?

When Catherine came down from her pinnacle of pleasure and opened her eyes, Henry kissed her tenderly.  
Slowly he accelerated his pace again until a load goan announced his tremendous orgasm and Henry exploded inside her still quivering body. Completely exhausted by their lovemaking, he sank back onto the mattress and pulled his wife into a loving embrace.  
They stayed like this for a long time and listened to each other's heartbeat. The only thing moving were Henry's fingers, that leisurely painted invisible patterns on Catherine's bare back.

"I love you." This confession just rolled off Henry's tongue in his state of absolute bliss. And although he had muttered these words right after the throes of passion, they still were true.  
He loved Catherine. He had actually never really stopped loving her.


	14. Chapter 14

Shocked by Henry's confession, Catherine turned her head to detain him from seeing how much his words were affecting her. To hear him confess his love - even after all these years - unsettled her in a rather unexpected way. But instead of granting her the space she needed, Henry pulled her even tighter into his arms and showered the tender curve of her neck with numerous kisses.  
"Henry," she started but faltered, unable to put her thoughts into words. And what exactly should she tell him in the first place? This whole situation seemed surreal.  
"Are you okay?" her husband asked tenderly, his voice overflown by worry as if sensing her inner turmoil.  
"I don't know," she answered and against her better judgment Catherine felt herself nestling up against Henry's solid body.

"Are you in pain?" His voice resonated with concern and the fact that he worried so much about her well-being as of late moved Catherine beyond reason.  
"No. Well, not more than usual," she said in all honesty and her answer prompted him to place another kiss on the nape of her neck.  
"I wish I could help you ease the pain."  
This remark made her pause for a moment before she turned her head to stare into his brown, sorrowful eyes.  
She would just love to tell him that he was already helping her, that his mere presence and his considerate behaviour already made her feel better. And that this was actually the first time in month where this throbbing, ubiquitous pain wasn't dominating her very being for once.

But Catherine remained silent and buried her face into the crook of his neck instead.  
"Don't you think that it's time to tell me what exactly has happened, my love?" Henry's fingers carefully ran over the cicatricial tissue of her left arm. Driven by fear and shame, Catherine tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but the way her husband was holding her and the gentleness directed at her broke her resistance.  
"I want to bring the people to justice who did this to you."  
Catherine hesitated. She didn't feel comfortable talking about the events which led her to being crippled. Most of the time she avoided thinking, let alone talking about her assault. But the pleading way her husband looked at her made her heart melt with tenderness.  
"They were masked. At least a dozen men, maybe more. We've been ambushed. They have literally massacred my soldiers in cold blood. And I was only able to catch a glimps at one of the men's faces when I tore off his hood while fighting him off." Her voice sounded flat and alien.

This was the first time she was actually talking about the attack after she had woken up in the convent run by Reverend Mother Agnes. She had been in a disoriented, battered state, more dead than alive. And she only had fragmentary memories of that day, but the image of the man who had dragged her out of the carriage by her hair and who had mercilessly punched her in the face, still haunted her. Grinning like a maniac and full of malice he had grabbed her and pressed her face down into the wet grass. Then he had torn her left arm back with brute force. Sometimes she still could hear the sickening sound of the joint of her shoulder dislocating from its socket. But the pain of a dislocated shoulder was nothing compared to the agony her body had to endure when this son of a bitch had started cutting an acrid pattern into the skin of her arm. All the while whistling an old folk tune.

"He had a long scar that ran over half of his face." Catherine hesitantly started to put together the tiny tags of memories she was finally sharing with Henry to get a better picture of the horrible things that had happened to her. Not once did she look up while talking, she rather muttered the words into his shoulder.  
Through it all her husband was just holding her, caressing her naked back, rocking her gently and giving her the time she needed to process this terrible experience.

"I will find this man and I swear to you he will regret the day he was born," Henry promised her after she had finished with her story. Catherine didn't have to look into his face to see the anger that had captured him. She could feel it by how tense his muscles were and by the way he was grinding with his teeth. But especially by how tightly he was holding her. A calming and at the same time frightening reaction.

All of this, the reprocessing of her assault, their sweet love-making and Henry's confession brought tears to Catherine's eyes. Tears she tried to blink away. She hated crying.  
Medici's didn't cry.  
Not in front of other people.  
And certainly not in front of Henry.

"But you've survived, sweetheart. And from now on you're going to be all right. I promise you."  
"I wish I could believe that," she said sadly. Her inexistent confidence prompted Henry to put some distance between them to better look at her.  
"Trust me, because I do. Your elopement opened my eyes, Catherine. I didn't expect myself to miss you and yet I did. Maybe we have emotionally and physically grown apart from each other during the last years and yes, we will have to re-learn how to get along with each other. But I want you back, Caterina. Back at my side, back as my queen and back as my wife."

Henry finished his speech by kissing her. For the blink of an eye Catherine allowed her husband to lull her in with his caresses, but then her rational mind gained the upper hand.  
"But how long will it last this time, Henry? Two, maybe three weeks? Diane is awaiting you back at court. And so is Kenna and countless other girls who would die to be in my place."  
She needed to be realistic and couldn't allow his sweet and beguiling words to win her over. Nor could she allow herself to be taken in by an illusion.  
"Please don't make empty promises. Out here, things might feel diffrent due to a lack of distractions and female temptations, but..." Henry interrupted her and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.  
"You are not a means to an end for me, honey. I'm serious. I love you".

His affirmation caused Catherine to close her eyes for a second. When she reopened them, she looked straight into the dark windows of Henry's very soul. They literally begged her to believe him.  
"I don't know what else to tell you to convince you, Catherine."  
When she didn't react but just stared at him at a loss, Henry reached out to her to take hold of a strand of her hair.  
"Words may say a lot, but deeds tell the truth," she replied.  
Henry shook his head and let go of her hair.  
"Then promise me not to turn away from me as long as I walk the talk, my love," he demanded while his fingers were gently stroking her bare back.

At that moment Catherine realized that she couldn't turn her back on Henry, even if she wanted to. Not when he behaved like he did just now, showering her with love and attentiveness. So she decided to enjoy his attention as long as it lasted.

Yet she swore to never offer him her heart again.  
For she didn't have the strength to put it back together after he had torn it to pieces once he got tired of her again.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The next few days Henry found himself in a state of frenzy. And he knew what - or rather who – to blame for his state.   
Catherine. His wife.   
Her mere nearness had the effect of a powerful aphrodisiac on him and he couldn't get enough of her. 

Since the moment they had left Lord Bernard's land, Henry hadn’t let her out of his sight. Mainly because he couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing where she was after he had just found her a few days ago. And secondary because he was trying to compensate his guilty conscience with exaggerated care, for he imposed this difficult journey upon his wife out of purely selfish reasons. He could just as well have put Catherine in one of Bernard's carriages and sent it over the main road to drive around the mountain crest.   
But without her knowledge he had refused Bernard’s friendly offer. 

He wanted her by his side since the time spent together on his horse and their nights on the small cot meant the world to him.   
And he knew that the two of them needed this forced closeness.   
For he still felt a distance between them that was coming from her. And no matter how hard he tried tearing down the walls of distrust that still surrounded Catherine's heart, he still feared her slipping through his fingers like sand as soon as he turned his back on his wife.   
That’s why he guarded her carefully. 

And during the nights, Henry made sweet love to her. Tenderly, carefully and with a devotion he never thought himself capable of. This newfound intimacy reminded him of their earlier years. A time when neither his mistresses nor her rebelliousness behavior had been standing between them. Not to mention their responsibility to sire an heir. An imposition that had finally torn them apart. 

And he would do everything in his power to prevent them from ever being torn apart again.   
Henry had pondered about their possible future during the last few days and he had come to the conclusion, that the only way to win Catherine over was to change his life. And that’s what he intended to do. 

For the first time in his life he had dared to ask himself the crucial question he had always avoided in the past.   
Did he love his wife enough to give up his numerous mistresses for her? Even Diane.   
And this promptly led him to another question: Which woman did he love more? Catherine or Diane?   
For both of them had a very special place in his heart.   
Henry was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to answer this question in the past, at least not before Catherine took flight.  
Now, however, there was no doubt left and his choice would be Catherine, over and over again.

He loved his wife and if the only way back into her heart meant that he had to break up his affairs with other women, he would just do that. Even though he knew that neither Diane nor Kenna would take it well. But right now he couldn’t care less about their feelings. 

And while he was mentally preparing his imminent conversation with his mistresses, Henry’s eyes wandered over to the woman sitting in front of him on his stallion. Catherine had shed her initial resentment and nowadays she was even seeking the support of his strong arms he offered her as soon as he mounted his horse behind her.   
She still insisted on riding her own horse for the first few hours of the day, but around noon she moved over to his without a word of protest to give her injured arm some rest. 

Henry brushed her hair aside and placed a tender kiss at the nape of her neck.   
"You are so quiet today..." Catherine's soft voice broke the silence between them.   
"I’m just thinking."  
"About... our return?", his wife guessed and Henry wondered if and how she imagined their future together. He could only hope that he had already smashed some of her doubts.   
"Yes. Catherine, I know that you long for the comfort of a bed and a nice bath. And the children of course. So do I, but I'm also going to miss this." Henry made a wide gesture, pointing at the mountains, the succulent meadows and the clear blue sky above them.   
In a moment like this it seemed so surreal to imagine him being King of France. 

Nevertheless, he knew that it was about time to return to court and to face his responsibilities. But this time he had his wife at his side.  
"I will miss it as well." Her concession released a wave of tenderness that swept all over him. Thus he gently grabbed Catherine's chin, turned her head in his direction and kissed her.   
"Then I suggest that we relish our remaining days and nights out here all the more, my darling." Henry kissed her again in order to substantiate his words.  
In the past, it would never have occurred to him to display his affection for Catherine so openly. And he was more than aware of the soldiers who witnessed him kissing his wife.  
But nowadays it felt like the most natural thing he could do.   
Especially when Catherine was kissing him back while melting into his arms. 

xxx

Three days later, Henry's troops reached the royal residence. The King and Queen of France were riding ahead of the soldiers. Since Henry knew how important it was for Catherine to maintain her dignity, he had given in to his wife's urging and agreed to let her ride her own horse. He didn’t want to embarrass her in front of their subjects.   
Countless times he let his eyes wander over to Catherine. She seemed nervous and her posture was tense. Her lips were drawn into a thin line and worry lines had appeared on her forehead. 

Fanfares could be heard from the battlements of the defense towers that announced their return.   
"Smile. In a moment or two you’re going to see the children." Henry tried to cheer up his wife. But the only thing he could coax out of her was the tiniest of twitches at the corners of her mouth.   
When he stopped his stallion right in front of the main entrance, a crowd of people was already surrounding them in the courtyard. Henry let his gaze wander over those present, but he couldn’t spy any of his children.   
After nodding to some of the Lords, he swung his leg over the horse's croup and jumped off the saddle in the most elegant way. He petted the animal's neck and went over to Catherine's grey horse. With a confident smile on his lips, Henry reached out to his wife and gently lifted her off her horse.   
"Welcome home, my dear," he whispered into her ear and tenderly stroke her cheek. While doing this, the King of France was more than aware of the curious looks his subjects darted their way. 

‘Let them stare’, Henry thought. His subjects had to get used to this sight sooner or later, for he did not intend to pay Catherine less attention just because there were now more eyes on them or because they were back at court.   
"I wish they would just stop staring," she whispered to him and smoothened her skirts with her right hand.   
"Can you blame them?" Henry smiled at her in encouragement. For he himself couldn’t take his eyes off her. Though for entirely different reasons. But he understood her frustration, for it masked a strong feeling of insecurity. 

The attention of all people present was mainly focused on his wife and normally she wouldn’t care at all. But without the protective walls her royal wardrobe usually provided her, without the jewelry and her make-up, Catherine had to feel naked.  
He on the other hand didn’t mind wearing functional cloths. In fact, he felt very comfortable and he loved seeing Catherine wearing a less formal dress for she looked adorably natural in it. 

But her body vibrated with tension, even though she had put on a majestic smile and bravely withstood the curious stares. In a protective gesture, Henry put his arm around his wife's waist and instructed one of the servants to summon their children.   
Without paying further attention to those present, Henry headed towards the marble staircase to take Catherine out of the focus of everybody’s attention. 

Halfway up, Francis appeared at the base of the stairs. The blonde Prince froze and stared down at his parents in surprise. A second later he rushed towards them.   
"Mother!" Their eldest flew into Catherine's arms. His enthusiastic greeting nearly swept his mother from her feet.   
"Oh Francis, my golden child," Catherine cried out and both joy and relief resonated from her voice.   
With a happy smile on his lips, Henry observed the reunion of mother and child.   
Meanwhile Mary, the Queen of Scots and Francis’ wife, had joined them as well. She gave her mother-in-law a warm hug as soon as Francis released her. Then the younger couple showered the older one with reams of questions.  
"Children, there will be time to answer your questions later. Let’s get inside first," Henry said with resoluteness in his voice and offered his wife his left arm to lead her up the remaining steps. 

Shortly thereafter they were surrounded by their children. They all craved for their mother's attention and clung to her like glue. Henry contented himself with the role of a silent observer after greeting the little ones. He knew that they needed their mother right now, not him.   
The joy of reunion had fired Catherine’s spirits and her face was radiating with blissful happiness.   
"What happened? Where did you find her?" Francis had approached him unnoticed and questioningly looked back and forth between his parents.  
"You won't believe it. I found her in a convent," Henry replied, without turning his gaze from his wife.   
"A convent?" Francis sounded bewildered which prompted his father to chuckle in amusement.   
"Yes. She had taken refuge there." The two men watched their family in silence. 

"She looks exhausted. I would even say emaciated," Francis muttered after a few minutes of silent observation. "Is she sick?" he asked and Henry looked at his son with a serious expression on his face.  
"She was sick. Very sick. Her condition was grave," he added, but refrained from giving further details. This wasn’t the right time.   
"Is her condition..." Francis hesitated briefly before continuing. "Is it life-threatening?"  
Henry firmly shook his head.   
"No, son. Not anymore. I’m sure that she is going to be okay."   
His son did not need to know how serious her condition still was. That the poison left in her system was still affecting her. All that mattered now was the fact that Catherine had survived.   
And he prayed that with God's and Nostradamus’ help, his words would come true.


	16. Chapter 16

The feeling of unbridled relief washed over Catherine for finally having her children back – safe and sound. But this feeling was overshadowed by fear of having missed out on essential moments in their still so very young lives. She hugged Hercule, Margot and Henri who were cuddling up to her on the settee, all the while attentively listening to Charles' tales about his first hunting party.  
Notwithstanding, the Queen of France was struggling with her emotions. They threatened to overrun her like a gigantic wave, disposed to drown her. While fighting these emotions, she could feel moisture accumulating in the corner of her eyes. Catherine blinked back the tears in determination, unwilling to lose her composure. Not in front of her husband and certainly not in front of her children. During the last six months she had already distressed her little ones more than enough. They shouldn't have to witness their mother's mental breakdown as well.

When Catherine let her gaze wander over to the farthest corner of the room, over to where Francis and Mary were standing, her attention was distracted by Henry, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, expressing unnatural self-effacement. It seemed as if he was watching over her from a safe distance. Relaxed but still determined to intervene, should he consider it necessary.  
When he noticed her gaze, a wide smile lay itself over his lips and Catherine thought she recognized a familiar sparkle in his eyes.

Feeling embarrassed at being caught staring, Catherine turned her head, looking at her eldest son instead, who was whispering with Mary, the Queen of Scots. Even though she knew that the two had entered into the bond of wedlock meanwhile, yet she was still surprised at how close they seemed to be. It wasn't their touches - the way their hands kept on finding each other - or how close they were standing that gave off this impression, but the non-verbal communication between them. As if they were reading each other's minds. Francis looked deeply into his wife's eyes and reached for her hand to squeeze it. With a nearly undiscernible movement Catherine noticed him pointing his chin in her direction while Mary nodded in agreement. They shared another smile, then Francis turned around and went over to his younger siblings.

"If I remember correctly, today is the official bathing day for little princes and princesses."  
His words ignited a storm of protest among his siblings, who were clinging at their mother, nearly crushing Catherine, not willing to leave her.  
"That's not true!" Henri protested loudly.  
"Well, I think Francis is right." Mary objected, who was also approaching the children and buried her noses into the blonde boy's neck. "Oh, it definitely smells like bathing day."  
Francis followed her example and exaggeratedly sniffed at Charles, who tried to shun his brother with a giggle.

Catherine followed their example and buried her nose deeply into Margot's curls. But she could smell nothing unpleasant, only her sweet little-girl scent. A scent she had terribly missed. Nevertheless, she played along until Francis and Mary started driving her children towards the bathing chamber. She felt her heart swell with love while listening to their frolicsome laughter and screams.

"You look very happy," Henry told her softly once they were alone. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the settee.  
"I AM happy," Catherine admitted and graced her husband with an honest, yet very tired smile.  
Henry contentedly nodded and stroked her cheek with his thumb.  
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You must be exhausted, but before we call it a night, I first want a doctor - or Nostradamus for all I care – to take a look at your arm. Allright, my love?"  
Catherine could tell by the tone of his voice alone that this was not an order but a question.  
That's why she agreed with a short nod of her head.  
She didn't know what she was hoping for in the first place. After all, the women in the convent had done everything within their human power. But there was still this tiny sparkle of hope that had failed to extinct.  
Maybe – against her better knowledge - Nostradamus would be able to perform one of his miracles.

But the thought of confronting her seer frightened her. The little plant called hope that Henry had sown in her heart and that he had watered constantly, was still frail and fragile and Catherine was afraid that the cold truth would cause it to wither. During the last days she had clung to the thought that once they had returned to court, Nostradamus would be able to find a way to heal her.  
What if he couldn't?  
What if she was condemned to a life as a cripple?  
How long would she be able to hide her handicap?  
The very idea of being exposed to the pitiful stares of the entire court society for the rest of her life made her shudder.

"Catherine, are you all right?" Henry's voice was close to her ear, pulling her from her dark thoughts. He was wearing a worried expression while watching her carefully.  
"Yes, let's go." Cathrine rose with mechanical slowness. No matter how much she feared Nostradamus' diagnosis, she knew this visit was inevitable. And the sooner she had clarity over her actual state of health, the sooner she could begin to come to terms with her fate. And with Henry.

Ignoring the hand her husband offered, Catherine rose and left the parlor. With Henry hard on her heels, the Queen of France set out for Nostradamus premises.

In the past she had hurried along this corridor numberless times before, she could not even count how often she had visited her seer in the vaults of the castle where he lived and worked. But never before had this stretch of way seemed so long. Henry's presence and the nervousness he exuded didn't make it any easier for her.  
With her heart pounding in her ears, Catherine entered her healer's chamber after a moment's hesitation. Her entry prompted the bearded man to turn around. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw his Queen and mistress. It took him a second or two to pull himself together, but then he dropped the pestle he had been using to pound herbs and walked over to her.  
"Your Grace, you're back." In addition to his amazement, Catherine could hear real joy and affection coming from his words and she ran towards her friend. A second later, his large arms pulled her into a big hug.

"My dear old friend," she whispered once they separated and suddenly she was very aware of his eyes, that were attentively taking in her appearance and that finally came to rest on her left arm.  
"You've been poisoned, haven't you? I should have known. What happened?" Nostradamus asked her bluntly. With a barely perceptible nod of his head, her seer asked for her permission to push up her sleeve. Catherine just nodded.  
Nostradamus started examining her arm, listening to Catherine summarize the events that had led to her injury. During all this, Henry stayed at her side, adding a comment here and there when he thought that she had left out an important part of her story and did his very best to stand in the way. When both the Queen and Nostradamus had enough of his exaggerated concern, Catherine sent him away. She could tell by the pleading way Henry was looking at her, how reluctant he was leaving her, yet she insisted. Once her husband had left the room, the Queen of France breathed a sigh of relief.  
"He crushes me with his care," Catherine told Nostradamus, whose gaze was still directed at the entrance where Henry had disappeared.  
"In fact, I have rarely seen his Majesty more worried about you than today. But it looks like you are not happy with this situation," her seer dared to vocalize his thoughts.  
Over the last decade, she had not seldom taken him into her confidence regarding the state of her marriage, complaining about her insensitive, adulterous husband, and now, when Henry was worried sick about her well-being, she obviously did not like it either.

"To pay respect to the truth: I don't know what to think about it. It's complicated." For lack of a satisfying explanation, Catherine sighed theatrically.  
"When is it ever not complicated between Henry and you?"  
Nostradamus' words provoked the Queen of France to roll her eyes in annoyance. But her friend was right.  
"Enough of this. Can you determine what kind of poison I've been exposed to?" Catherine deliberately broached another subject to distract herself from her mental dilemma.

"It's a strong neurotoxin, without doubt. But in order to determine the exact nature of this poison, I need more information. And some of your blood." Catherine nodded in resignation. Even if she abhorred blood-letting, at least she knew that Nostradamus' methods - even though they were considered controversial in many places - currently offered her biggest chance for being cured. Besides, she was sure that her bearded friend already had an idea about what kind of poison it was that was raging through her veins, even if he still refrained from making a conjecture at this particular time.  
Thus she willingly let herself be led to the back of the chamber and took a seat on the treatment table.  
"Tell me again how it happened. Don't leave anything out, every detail, no matter how small, could be of importance," Nostradamus instructed her and measured Catherine's heart rate and pulse. "Under normal circumstances, I would never bleed you in your current condition. A small amount of your blood will have to do." Nostradamus explained and applied a tourniquet on her right upper arm.

Catherine tried to recall more details of her attack, but the fragments of her memory from that day were incoherent at best and of shadowy substance. Her seer gave her all the time she needed and did not pressure her. With stoic calmness he disinfected the inside of her elbow, then he pressed his surgical knife against her skin. When a crimson red trickle of blood welled out from under the blade, Catherine did not avert her gaze but rather watched her blood drip down into the basin Nostradamus was holding.  
"He has left me there to die. I did not realize it at first. My injuries were painful but not fatal." Catherine paused for a second, still looking at the spot where her blood was seeping out. "His blade must have been poisoned. I was supposed to die a cruel and lonely death," she murmured, wondering why she had never questioned how exactly she had come into contact with that poison.

The unbearable pain had caused her to lose consciousness and she had only come to her senses in the convent weeks later. For reasons of self-protection she had not dared to ask herself the question of what exactly had happened to her after she had fainted. She had more important things to worry about at that time. Her survival, for example.  
She had thought that some poisonous substance had been instilled into her. Something that had also come into contact with her wound. But a willful attack with a poisoned blade seemed more realistic now.

"That's it," Nostradamus declared and put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.  
But when Catherine was about to get up, her friend gently pushed her back onto the bench. "Please wait a minute. Catherine, I am unduly glad that these bastards didn't succeed in killing you. Allow me to be honest with you. At this early stage I can't promise you anything. But believe me, I will do everything in my power to heal you. I could curb the pain with laudanum. The risk of becoming dependent is not to be underestimated. A weaker mixture however..."  
Catherine interrupted Nostradamus.  
"I'll take the weaker mixture."  
Though she longed for relief, she was not willing to accept an addiction on top of her handicap. Besides, she had become accustomed to the permanent pain.

Nostradamus nodded with a serious expression on his face. Silently accepting her choice and handing her a small bottle with a brownish liquid.  
"Take this only after supper, or it will affect your stomach. I can only advise you to have regular meals and to get plenty of rest. You need to give your body a break. You're still recovering. And this…" Nostradamus reached across his work table and handed her a second vial. "…will strengthen your immune system."  
The tall man circled the table and smelled at some of the crucible and herbs. "Before going to sleep, I will have them bring you a decoction of herb poultice. Apply it to your arm generously. And I want to see you every day."  
He didn't need to say it out loud, one look at his serious face was enough to make Catherine realize that her seer was genuinely concerned about her.

She acknowledged his instructions with a short nod and rose.  
But instead of leaving, she went over to Nostradamus, who went on to crush his herbs. Herbs that were very likely intended to be used for her poultice.

"According to Henry, the prophecy has changed. To what extent?"  
Her question prompted the tall man to drive around to face her. For a moment, she feared that Henry might have lied just to put her at ease.  
"That's true. I no longer see Francis' death. The focus of my visions has changed. It is no longer directed at Francis, but on the Red and the White Queen. These new visions started shortly after your disappearance."  
His words left Catherine gasping for air.  
"You mean it's possible that my return will undo the changes you have seen? What if the decisive factor is my absence? I can't possibly stay if that means..." Catherine felt cold panic reaching for her heart that threatened to paralyze her with fear.

"I'm inclined to doubt that. There are too many visions. New visions. The interaction of the two Queens is the decisive factor." Nostradamus approached her and with greatest care he took her injured arm. Then she saw recognition flickering up in his eyes. "You, Your Grace, are the Red Queen. Petrified by the poison of a snake."  
His words caused Catherine to swallow hard.  
"You think that snake venom might be responsible for this?" she asked cautiously.  
"That's possible, but it could also have a metaphorical meaning. And it's connected to another vision I've had a few days later."  
"What kind of vision?"  
"I saw the Red Queen."  
"You saw me?"  
"No, not you exactly. I rather saw her like a piece of a chess game. A scarlet Queen. Standing right in the middle of a sea of snakes, covering the entire board. She gets bitten. By a viper." Nostradamus paused for a few seconds and closed his eyes, as if recalling his vision this way. "The Red Queen turns around and chops off the head of one of the snakes that is crawling at the King's feet. Then she leaves the board – leaves the game - and all the snakes turn to dust."

"And you think the King symbolizes Francis?"  
"No, I assume it symbolizes Henry."  
Catherine couldn't hide her amazement and critically looked at her seer.  
"But Henry doesn't need saving. What makes you think this king symbolizes Henry?"  
"My third vision. Italy and France, shattered by the venom of a snake, nevertheless reunited in the end."  
"And what leads you to believe that this vision is about Henry and I? I do not believe that..." Catherine couldn't finish her sentence since she was interrupted by Nostradamus.  
"You have reconciled, haven't you? And he seemed worried to death about your health, not to mention the way he looks at you." Nostradamus paused, allowing his words to slowly infiltrate her thoughts.  
"This theory is too far-fetched for my liking. We were in an exceptional situation. Now we're back and a leopard don't change its spots. Henry won't stop chasing other women. It's an innate instinct." She broke off, unwilling to imagine how Henry's return to his old hunting grounds would affect his and her life.

"What's more important, do you think that Francis is still out of danger despite my return?" She would never put her own comfort before her eldest son's life.  
"There is no indication that your return will put him in danger, Catherine," her seer placated her, but he could only partially reassure her.  
"You will tell me immediately, should your visions change again!"  
"Of course, Your Majesty."  
Catherine just nodded. Then she turned around and slowly walked towards the door.

The way seemed unexpectedly long, for she felt Nostradamus' piercing eyes resting on her. Since she was carrying the remedies in her right hand, Catherine used her elbow to push the handle down. Her seer's gaze was still resting on her.  
"Thank you, my friend", she murmured before leaving his premises.

"There you are, my love! Nostradamus certainly took his time." Henry who had been leaning against the wall – obviously waiting for her - hurried towards his wife.  
"Henry! Have you been waiting for me the whole time?"


End file.
